"Do I have to?" George said unhappily.
"It would help clear things up considerably," Marc said. "Personally, I don't believe a word of it."
George stared at them for a long moment, then sighed. "Oh, all right," he murmured. "If you insist. Of course this is terribly corny, and you probably won't like it, but it should give you an idea."
As Marc and Toffee watched, George carefully controlled his ectoplasm, dissolved his head down to a grinning skull, and issued a low moaning sound.
"Mother in heaven!" Toffee said, closing her eyes. "Stop doing that!"
George, only too happy to do so, quickly rematerialized his head. "I told you you wouldn't like it," he said.
"But how could you be my ghost?" Marc said shakenly. "I'm not dead."
"Are you sure?" Toffee said. "Personally, I feel quite dead and gone to hell after looking at that."
"But you're supposed to be dead," George said with sudden self-righteousness. "If you were any good at all, you'd be mouldering in your grave at this very moment. You were supposed to have been blown to bits in an explosion. That's why they sent me."