room, he banged his forehead against a hat-peg and gave himself a huge bump; then, suddenly stepping back, he skinned his arm on the screen, near the piano; he tried to lean on the piano, but the lid fell on his hands and crushed his fingers; he rushed out of the office like a madman, slipped on the staircase and came down the whole of the first flight on his back. I was just passing with mother. We picked him up. He was covered with bruises and his face was all over blood. We were frightened out of our lives, but, all at once, he began to thank Providence that he had got off so cheaply. Then he told us what had frightened him. He had seen the ghost behind the Persian, the ghost with the death's head just like Joseph Buquet's description!'

Jammes had told her story ever so quickly, as though the ghost were at her heels, and was quite out of breath at the finish. A silence followed, while Sorelli polished her nails in great excitement. It was broken by little Giry, who said:

`Joseph Buquet would do better to hold his tongue.'

`Why should he hold his tongue?' asked somebody.

`That's mother's opinion,' replied Meg, lowering her voice and looking all about her as though fearing lest other ears than those present might overhear.

`And why is it your mother's opinion?'

`Hush! Mother says the ghost doesn't like being talked about.'

`And why does your mother say so?'

`Because - because - nothing - '

This reticence exasperated the curiosity of the young ladies, who crowded round little Giry, begging her to explain herself. They were there, side by side, leaning forward simultaneously in one movement of entreaty and fear, communicating their terror to one another, taking a keen pleasure in feeling their blood freeze in their veins.

`I swore not to tell!' gasped Meg.

But they left her no peace and promised to keep the secret, until Meg, burning to say all she knew, began, with her eyes fixed on the door:

`Well, it's because of the private box.'

`What private box?'

`The ghost's box!'

`Has the ghost a box? Oh, do tell us, do tell us!'

`Not so loud!' said Meg. `It's Box Five, you know, the box on the grand tier, next to the stage-box, on the left.'

`Oh, nonsense!'

`I tell you it is. Mother has charge of it. But you swear you won't say a word?'

`Of course, of course.'

`Well, that's the ghost's box. No one has had it for over a month, except the ghost, and orders have been given at the box-office that it must never be sold.'