Having finally located Mr. Thirteen's missing horse wandering around the back garden, Mrs. Masters lead it back to its owner and sent the young couple on their way. Satisfied that one problem had been solved, she went back inside to get rid of the other. She went back inside the mansion and found Pamela sitting on one of the armchairs in the parlor nursing a drink that Mrs. Masters was quite certain contained very strong alcohol. Her husband sat across from her on the sofa right next to his mother who hadn't moved from her spot since Mrs. Masters saw her last.

"Are they still upstairs?" Mrs. Masters asked Pamela.

"No," she sighed in response, "They've moved on to the library. I kept trying to tell them Samantha ran away, but they won't listen to me!"

"Good for them, dearie."

"Go catch the bubonic plague, you old codger! Anyways, as I was saying, They won't listen! Or that moronic man won't listen, I should say. Those two girls seem to be sensible, at least. They both kept trying to convince him to go home, but he's having none of it!"

"Ugh," Mrs. Masters slapped her forehead in frustration, "He's still saying my house is haunted?"

"But it is, dearie."

"They're no such things as ghosts, you stupid flea! Jeremy, do something!"

"I don't know what to do, Pamela!" he snapped at her, "It's been almost twenty-four hours and our daughter is still missing! I'm starting to think Mother was right last night. Samantha's not anywhere here in this mansion and I'm starting to get worried!"

"Oh, please!" she scoffed, "Samantha's just being stubborn! She gets that from your side of the family, you know!"

"Good for her, dearie."

"Feed yourself to the lions, you cantankerous mole! As I was saying, Samantha will go on with the wedding whether she likes it or not!"

"Our daughter is missing and you're more concerned with the wedding!" Jeremy shouted, "Are Mother and I the only ones here in this house who actually cares about whether or not Samantha's safe!"

"Of course not, Mr. Manson!" Mrs. Masters interjected in a soothing voice, not needing another problem in this house, "I also share your concerns and I know Dashiel has been worrying himself sick about poor Samantha!"

"I can tell, dearie," Ida snorted, "Why there was nothing but worry written all over his face while he flirting with those girls in the library."

"Happy now, Jeremy?" Pamela snapped as she took a sip of her drink, "Now you've gone and riled everyone else up. Apparently, I'm the only one left in this house who knows exactly what's going on here."

"Alright then, Pamela," Jeremy crossed his arms, "Since you know everything that's going on here, where's Samantha?" She harrumphed into her drink and turned away from him, "That's what I thought!"

"Well," Mrs. Masters tried to keep the peace again, "I'm sure we'll find her and bring her back safe and sound. Trust me, Dashiel will be so relieved to have his bride back."

"About as relieved as he'll be to receive a root canal, dearie."

"And," she continued, "We can continue on with the wedding."

"Damn the wedding," Jeremy got up and stomped out of the word, "I told you it was a bad idea from the start, Pamela!"

"Go bury you and your mother into your graves, you pathetic mealworm!"

"Get that thing away from me, you fat idiot!" Bertrand shouted.

"What now?" Mrs. Masters sighed as she headed to the library.

A moment later, she saw Bertrand attempt to push Jack away from him as Jack shoved some metallic mechanical box with two green lights blinking on top of it. Being much smaller than Jack, however, all Bertrand managed to accomplish was to make himself fall backwards onto the ground. Dashiel and the two women were at the back of the room. The girls looked rather annoyed at him as he continued his flirting. Before Mrs. Masters was able to scold him, Bertrand shouted out again as Jack shoved the box back at him.

"I said get that thing away from me!"

"What's going on here?" Mrs. Masters demanded with her hands at her hips, "I thought I told you all to leave!"

"What is happening in this area," the box spoke up in a mechanical voice, "I thought I said all of you had to vacate. Fear me."

Dani and Jazz looked at each other in surprise.

"I knew something wasn't right about her," Dani whispered to her, "Soon as I saw her, I knew there was something seriously wrong."

"You girls talking about me?" Dashiel asked with a smile on his face, "I don't blame you. I am quite handsome after all! And rich! Did I mention rich!"

"Humble, aren't you?" Jazz said sarcastically.

"Humble? What does that mean? Is that another word for handsom? Because I am handsome!"

Bertrand got up and dusted himself, "Mrs. Masters has been more than kind to you for long enough! Now I insist you leave the premises immediatly!"

"That's exactly what a guilty man would say!" Jack shouted, "Or should I say, a guilty ghost!"

"Father," Dani sighed, "The gabber hasn't said anything! He's not a ghost!"

"Thank you!" Bertrand shouted, "Thank you, young lady! I am not a ghost! All of these accusations are getting ridiculous!"

"The gabber?" Mrs. Master asked, hands still on her hips, "What gabber?"

"The speaker," the box said, "What speaker. Fear me."

"It's one of our tools we use during our investigations, ma'am!" he held out the device to her, "It takes anything a paranormal creature says and translates it so that humans can understand! Be it ghost, vampire, witches, anything! Their secrets don't stay hidden for long! I call it the Ghost Gabber! Usually, I bring this baby out whenever we find some sort of paranormal object."

"Paranormal?" Dashiel turned to him, "Is that something like parakeet?"

"For the last time!" Bertrand shouted, "That book is not a paranormal object!"

"What book?" Mrs. Masters asked.

"What book," the gabber translated, "Fear me."

"This one!"

Jack held it out a heavy thick book with a worn and tattered red leather cover. It had no title or picture. Mrs. Masters went to grab it, but Bertrand got to it first.

"Give me that!" he shouted and yanked the book back only to tumble backwards onto the floor again due to its weight.

"Mr. Fenton, I assure you," Mrs. Masters said, "That book is not paranormal. It's been in my family for hundreds of years! It's nothing more than a list of recipes!"

"Mr. Fenton, I assure you, that book is not celestial or abnormal. It has been in my family for hundreds of years. It is not anything more than an account of cooking techniques. Fear me."

"Hmm," Jack shook his gabber as he gave it an annoyed look, "Why isn't this thing working right? You're obviously not paranormal. The butler thought..."

"Will you cut it out!" Bertrand shouted before turning to Mrs. Masters, "Penelope! Do something!"

"Father's obviously not going to listen." Jazz whispered to her sister as the argument continued, "I think we need to do a little investigating of our own."

"I don't know," Dani mumbled, turning red, "That's exactly what Tucker and Dan tried to do and look what happened to them."

"Dani, I know this is hard, but don't you want-"

"You girls still talking about me?" Dashiel smiled.