"
The voice, small and weak though it was, grew quite angry in tone, and
it seemed to Leo as if it were accompanied by the stamp of a foot; but
he saw nothing, not so much as a spider crawling over the stone
corridor.
It was very peculiar. He pinched himself to see if he was awake. Yes,
wide-awake, no doubt of that; besides, he seldom dreamed--indeed, never,
unless his foot had slipped in climbing a crag to peep into a nest, when
the fall was sometimes repeated in his sleep. Who was this speaking to
him? As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice went on:
"So far from being a good-for-nothing old ghost, I am one of the
founders of the S.P.C.C., a very old society--much older than people of
the present day imagine."
Leo was quite ashamed to be so ignorant, but he ventured to ask,
"What is the S.P.C.C.?"
"Is it possible you have never heard of it?"
"Never," replied Leo, still feeling as if he were talking to the walls.
There was a queer little gurgling "Ha! ha!" which was at once
suppressed.
"Well, how could you know away off in this remote region?"
"I am sure I don't understand you at all," said Leo.
"No, I see you don't; and it's by no means remarkable. You live so
entirely alone, and are so wretchedly neglected, that it is a wonder you
know anything."
Leo began to be angry, but it was too much of an effort; besides, what
was there to be angry at--a voice? So he remained sulkily silent until
the voice resumed, in a changed tone:
"I beg your highness's pardon; I quite forgot myself.
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