"How did you manage it?" with a smile.
"HOW DID YOU MANAGE IT?"
"You see, you had left your window a little open. I climbed the thick ivy that runs up the wall—I had often done it when a child—slipped my hand between the bars of the window, and put the book upon the table."
"But you forgot to raise your hand in warning; and ghosts are not generally in such a hurry, I think, to say nothing of the size of the hand."
"It was a scramble; did you hear me fall?"
"I heard a little 'Oh!'"
"Then you did know?"
"I knew Verschoyle had a very good sister."
"Allan, I do not think he suspects. Ought I not to tell him the truth?"