“An actor!”

“I’ve never seen one, but that’s what I think they look like. He’s tall, active, and stands up straight, but he’s definitely not a gentleman.”

As I continued, my friend’s face became pale, “Not a gentleman? He?”

“So you know him then?”

“But is he handsome?”

“Very much so!”

“And how is he dressed?”

“He is wearing someone else’s clothes. They are stylish, but they don’t belong to him.”

She cried, “They belong to the master!”

“So you do know him?”

“Quint!” she cried.

“Quint?”

“Peter Quint—his valet [28] , when he was here!”

“When the master was here?”

“He never wore his hat. They were both here—last year. Then the master left, and Quint was alone.”

I followed, but stopped a bit. “Alone?”

“Alone with us,” she added, “In charge.”

“And what happened to him?”

She took so long to answer that I became even more confused. “He went, too,” she finally said.

“Went where?”

“God knows where! He died.”

“Died?” I almost shouted.

“Yes. Mr. Quint is dead.”

That night, we agreed that we would face things together. I wasn’t even sure if she had a harder time than me. I knew, even at that moment, what I could do to protect my pupils.

“He was looking for someone else, you say— someone who was not you?”

“He was looking for little Miles.” I knew this very clearly. “That’s who he was looking for.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know, I know, I know!” After a moment, she continued: “What if he sees him?”

“Little Miles? That’s what he wants!”

She looked very scared again. “The child?”

“Heaven forbid [29] ! The man. He wants to appear to them.” The idea was awful, but somehow, I couldn’t keep it away. As we stayed there, I had a strong feeling that I would see what I had already seen. However, something in me told me that I could serve as a sacrifice [30] to protect the calmness of my companions. Especially the children, I would surround them and save them completely. I remember one of the last things I said to Mrs. Grose that night.

“It seems like my students have never told me—”

She looked at me as I paused in thought, “About his time here and the time they spent with him?”

“The time they spent with him, his name, his presence, his history, anything.”

“Oh, the little girl doesn’t remember. She never heard or knew.”

“About his death?” I thought deeply. “Maybe not. But Miles would remember—Miles would know.”

“Ah, don’t ask him!” Mrs. Grose cried.

I gave her the same look she had given me. “Don’t be afraid.” I continued to think. “It’s rather strange.”

“That he has never talked about him?”

“Never even asked about him. And you say they were ‘great friends’?”

“Oh, it wasn’t him! It was Quint’s own imagination. To play with him, I mean—to spoil him.” She paused for a moment, then added: “Quint was much too free.”

This made me feel a sudden disgust [31] . “Too free with my boy?”

“Too free with everyone!”

Just to be sure, I asked her one last question. “So you’re saying that he was definitely and admittedly [32] bad?”

“Oh, not admittedly. I knew it—but the master didn’t.”

“And you never told him?”

“Well, he didn’t like people talking about others’ faults. He didn’t want to hear complaints. If people were fine with him…”

“He didn’t want to hear more?” This matched my impression of him. Still, I continued. “I promise you, I would have told him!”

She understood my point. “Maybe I was wrong. But, honestly, I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of the things that man could do. Quint was so clever.”

I understood even more than I showed. “Weren’t you afraid of anything else? Not of his infulence [33] —?”

“His influence?” She repeated with a painful look, waiting for me to continue.

“On innocent little lives. They were under your care.”

“No, they weren’t under mine!” She replied firmly. “The master trusted him and put him here because he was supposed to be unwell, and the country air would be good for him. So he had all the authority. Yes,”—she told me sternly [34] —”even over them.”