As a beaming Sir Peregrine turned to face them, he suddenly felt himself go cold all over and then to his horror his mouth opened, or rather it felt as if it had been prized open, and a voice, not his own, came out. It said, “I hope you know I’m only marrying your Friday-faced chit for her money.”

The Withers gasped in unison.

Sir Peregrine clamped a hand to his mouth and to his horror a ghostly hand seemed to drag it away.

Too terrified to do anything other than stand and stare, Sir Peregrine heard that horrible voice issuing from between his now white lips.

“I thought an old fool like you would be taken in by my title,” it sneered. “Odd’s Fish! Just look at your stupid faces. Do you really think I would marry this rabbit-faced quiz for her looks?”

Mr. Withers rang the bell so furiously that in no time at all three of his footmen had erupted into the room.

“But… but… but…” said Sir Peregrine.

“Throw him out,” screamed Mr. Withers, pointing a shaking finger at the hapless Sir Peregrine. “Throw him in the kennel where he belongs!”

And that is exactly what they did.

The Duke took his leave of Sir Peregrine’s now filthy body and floated up over the London streets. He had just one more job to do.

The Duke alighted some time later outside the gothic gates of a madhouse outside London and rang the bell.

At last he was admitted and demanded to see the principal.

“I am the Duke of Haversham,” said the ghost grandly, neglecting to say which one. “I believe you have a Miss Snapper confined here. I take leave to tell you she is sane.”

The principal, Mr. Jorry, bowed before the magnificent figure of the Duke but nonetheless hesitated. “Miss Snapper was confined here, Your Grace,” he said, “by the express command of the Earl of Markhampton. She screamed for weeks that she was sane but to tell the truth she seemed madder than anyone else here.”

“I assure you she is sane,” said the Duke firmly. “Are you going to dither there and maunder on about what a mere Earl said?”

This was argument enough for Mr. Jorry.

And that is how a bewildered and tearfully grateful Miss Snapper—fortunately still sane—found herself released by no less than the Duke of Haversham and furnished with references and a tidy sum of money to start her in life again.

The Duke cut short her paean of gratitude by remarking acidly, “If you ever bully anyone again, Miss Snapper, may the same fate befall you,” and it was only long afterward that Miss Snapper wondered over his marked resemblance to Alice’s Uncle Gervase and how he had come to know that she had been in the habit of bullying anyone at all.