"Well, that's something, anyway," I said. "You wait till I go and speak to him again, and put some cold water on your eyes, why don't you?"
For it just occurred to me that maybe I could do something with him, after all. He was leaning against the window at the end of the corridor, and I never like to see excited people near windows, after my suicide woman, so I sprinted along till I got to him. But I really don't believe there was any need for it—he wasn't that kind.
"See here, Mr. Ferrau," I said, "do you really believe that Miss Elton—I beg your pardon, Mrs. Ferrau—really gave that old Janet ghost to you?"
"Believe it? believe it?" he said, staring at me out of his red eyes. "No, I don't believe it, Miss Jessop—I know it! I tell you I see the damned thing, in a brown dress, on the edge of my bed every night!"
"Well, then," I said, "do you think you could give it to anybody else?"
And just at that moment, and not before, I remembered old Margaret!
"Why—why, I never thought of that," he said. "I—I wouldn't put any one else through such a hell, though——"
"Oh, come, now," I said. "Maybe they wouldn't think it was so bad as you do, Mr. Ferrau."
"But who would—oh, it's too crazy!" he said, half angry, but all broken up, so he didn't much care how it sounded.
"Oh, lots of people," I told him. "Why, you might easily find some one with an incurable disease, you know, that hadn't long to live and wanted money——"