am going to tell you? Ghosts! There are no ghosts HERE!'


I took an engagement once (pursued the German courier) with an
English gentleman, elderly and a bachelor, to travel through my
country, my Fatherland. He was a merchant who traded with my
country and knew the language, but who had never been there since
he was a boy - as I judge, some sixty years before.

His name was James, and he had a twin-brother John, also a
bachelor. Between these brothers there was a great affection.
They were in business together, at Goodman's Fields, but they did
not live together. Mr. James dwelt in Poland Street, turning out
of Oxford Street, London; Mr. John resided by Epping Forest.

Mr. James and I were to start for Germany in about a week. The
exact day depended on business. Mr. John came to Poland Street
(where I was staying in the house), to pass that week with Mr.
James. But, he said to his brother on the second day, 'I don't
feel very well, James. There's not much the matter with me; but I
think I am a little gouty. I'll go home and put myself under the
care of my old housekeeper, who understands my ways. If I get
quite better, I'll come back and see you before you go. If I don't
feel well enough to resume my visit where I leave it off, why YOU
will come and see me before you go.' Mr. James, of course, said he
would, and they shook hands - both hands, as they always did - and
Mr. John ordered out his old-fashioned chariot and rumbled home.

It was on the second night after that - that is to say, the fourth
in the week - when I was awoke out of my sound sleep by Mr. James