"What are you babbling about?" the doctor enquired shortly. "Where is Pillsworth?"
"He.... He's gone, sir!" the attendant blurted.
"Gone?" the doctor said. "Where did he go?"
The orderly looked away down the hall. "There was this girl, see ... she had red hair and a can...."
"Now, just a minute, orderly," the doctor said measuredly. "If you think you can distract me with the depressing details of your sex life...."
"But you don't understand! She was holding this thing ... and she told me to shut up ... and then Mr. Pillsworth wasn't there any more. That's the truth!"
"Let me impress it upon you," the doctor said, "that this is a very serious incident. I can't imagine how a half-dead patient managed to get away from you, but you'll find him instantly and deliver him to surgery if you know what's good for you. Meanwhile, I'll have the alarm sent out to all the wards and offices. I hope you realize that your carelessness has undoubtedly cost the patient his last chance for life. Without the slightest doubt I can pronounce Marc Pillsworth dead right now."
As the doctor spoke these last words, a small gust of wind—or at least what could easily have passed for a small gust of wind—eddied around the corner at the end of the hall. It was this slight disturbance which marked the arrival of George on Earth.
At the sound of the doctor's voice, the ghost stopped, listened, then clasped his hands together in a transport of joy. He had arrived just in time to receive the happy news! Marc was dead and he, George, had at last secured his permanent residency on Earth. Out of sheer exuberance the delighted spectre let out a little moan of delight.
The orderly, who was watching the doctor gloomily out of sight, turned sharply.