Hugh saw, or thought he saw, the Bohemian dart an angry glance at Euphra, who shrank under it. But before he could speak, Mr. Arnold rejoined:
“You can make a bed, then? That is the housemaid’s phrase, is it not?”
“I can do anything another can, uncle.”
“Bravo! Can you see the ghost?”
“Yes,” she answered, with a low lingering on the sibilant; looking round, at the same time, with an expression that implied a hope that Hugh had heard it; as indeed he had.
“What! Euphra too?” said Mr. Arnold, in a tone of gentle contempt.
“Do not disturb the ghost’s bed for me,” said Hugh. “It would be a pity to disarrange it, after it has lain so for an age. Besides, I need not rouse the wrath of the poor spectre more than can’t be helped. If I must sleep in her room, I need not sleep in her bed. I will lie on the old couch. Herr von Funkelstein, what proof shall I give you?”
“Your word, Mr. Sutherland,” replied Funkelstein, with a bow.
“Thank you. At what hour must I be there.”
“Oh! I don’t know. By eleven I should think. Oh! any time before midnight. That’s the ghost’s own, is it not? It is now—let me see—almost ten.”