And the bottom floor is also unoccupied, save for lumber rooms, empty
boxes and crates and barrels. And last of all is the great patio with
its tiled floor, where secretly in the night a duel was fought to the
death by the wicked count and a famous Austrian prince, who was one of
Maximilian’s men. The count was killed. No one knows why the duel was fought; some say it was because of a
beautiful Spanish woman; some say that it was because of treasure that
the two jointly “conveyed,” and which the count refused to divide with
his princely “socio,” and more people--Mexicans--shrug their shoulders
if you ask about it, and say, “Quien sabe?”

“I saw a ghost here last night, Miss James,” announces our cashier with
much eclat and evident pride. So great is the shock that I gasp, and my pen drops, spattering red ink
on my nice fresh cuffs, and (worse luck!) on the ledger page that I had
just totted up. It is ruined, and I will have to erase it,
or--something! Wretched man! “I wish to goodness it had taken you off,” I cry, wrathfully, as I look
at the bespattered work. “Now will you just look here and see what you
have done? I wish you and your ghosts were in----”

“Gehenna?” he inquires, sweetly; “I’ll fix that--it won’t take half a
minute. And don’t look so stern, else I won’t tell you about the
‘espanto.’ And you will be sorry if you don’t hear about it--it would
make such a good story.” (Insinuatingly.) “Then go ahead with it.” (Ungraciously.) “Well, last night I was waiting for West. He was to meet me here, after
which it was our intention to hit the--that is, I mean we were going out
together. (I nod scornfully.) And it seems that while I was patiently
waiting here, in my usual sweet-tempered way, the blank idiot had his
supper and then lay down to rest himself for a while. You know how
delicate he is? (Another contemptuous nod.) Unfortunately he forgot the
engagement, and slept on. He says he never awoke until three o’clock,
and so didn’t come, thinking I wouldn’t be there. Meantime I also went
to sleep, and might have snoozed on until three, likewise, but for the
fact that the ghost woke me----”

“Well? Do go on,” I urge. “The ghost woke me, as I said,” proceeds the simpleton, slowly. “It was
passing its cold fingers over my face and groaning. Really, it was most
extraordinary. At first I didn’t know what it was; then, as I felt the
icy fingers stroking my face and heard blood-curdling groans issuing
from the darkness, I knew what it was. And I remembered the story of the
prince and his little duel down in the patio, and knew it was the ghost
of the prince’s victim. By the way, you don’t know what a funny
sensation it is to have a ghost pat your face, Miss James----”

“Pat nothing,” I retort, indignantly. “I wonder you are not ashamed to
tell me such fibs. Such a ta-ra-diddle! And as for the man that the
prince killed downstairs, you know as well as I do that he was taken
home to Spain and buried there. Why, then, should he come back here,
into our offices, and pat your face?”

“Ah, that I can’t say,” with a supercilious drawl. “I can only account
for it by thinking that the ghost has good taste--better than that of
some people I know,” meaningly. “But honestly, I swear that I am telling
you the truth--cross my heart and hope to die if I am not! And you
don’t know how brave I was--I never screamed; in fact, I never made a
sound; oh, I was brave!”

“Then what did you do?” sternly. “I ran. Por Dios, how I ran! You remember with what alacrity we got down
the stairs during the November earthquake? (I remember only too
distinctly.) Well, last night’s run wasn’t a run, in comparison--it was
a disappearance, a flight, a sprint! I went down the four flights of
stairs like a streak of blue lightning, and the ghost flew with me. I
heard the pattering of its steps and its groans clean down to the patio
door, and I assure you I quite thought I had made such an impression
that it was actually going on home with me. And the thought made me feel
so weak that I felt perforce obliged to take a--have a--that is,
strengthen myself with a cocktail. After which I felt stronger and went
home quite peacefully. But it was an uncanny experience, wasn’t it?”

“Was it before or after taking that cocktail?” I ask, incredulously. “And did you take one only or eleven?”

I am hard on the man, but he really deserves it. Ghosts! Spirits,
perhaps, but not ghosts. Whereat his feelings are quite “hurted”--so
much so that he vows he will never tell me anything again; I had better
read about Doubting Thomas; he never has seen such an unbelieving woman
in all his life, and if I were only a man he would be tempted to pray
that I might see the ghost; it would serve me right. Then, wrathfully
departs, to notice me no more that day. Not believing the least bit in ghosts I gave the matter no more thought. In fact, when you fall heir to a set of books that haven’t been posted
for nineteen days, and you have to do it all, and get up your trial
balance, too, or else give up your Christmas holidays, you haven’t much
time to think about ghosts, or anything else, except entries. And though
I had been working fourteen hours per day, the 24th of December, noon
hour, found me with a difference of $13.89. The which I, of course, must
locate and straighten out before departing next morning on my week’s
holiday. Por supuesto, it meant night work. Nothing else would do; and
besides, our plans had all been made to leave on the eight o’clock train
next morning. So I would just sit up all night, if need be, and find the
wretched balance and be done with it. Behold me settled for work that night at seven o’clock in my own office,
with three lamps burning to keep it from looking dismal and lonely, and
books and ledgers and journals piled up two feet high around me. If hard
work would locate that nasty, hateful $13.89 it would surely be found. I
had told the portero downstairs on the ground floor to try and keep
awake for a time, but if I didn’t soon finish the work I would come down
and call him when I was ready to go home. He lived in a little room, all shut off from the rest of the building,
so that it was rather difficult to get at him. Besides, he was the very
laziest and sleepiest peon possible, and though he was supposed to take
care of the big building at night, patrolling it so as to keep off
ladrones, he in reality slept so soundly that the last trumpet, much
less Mexican robbers, would not have roused him. And for this very reason, before settling to my work I was careful to go
around and look to locks and bolts myself; everything was secure, and
the doors safely fastened. So that if ladrones did break through they
would have to be in shape to pass through keyholes or possess false
keys. With never a thought of spirits or porteros, or anything else, beyond
the thirteen dollars and eighty-nine cents, I worked and added and
re-added and footed up.