Henrietta, standing in the kitchen, suddenly stepped backward as if startled. Once she realized that this ghost, unlike the other ones in this mansion, meant no harm to her, she smiled and shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry, but no. No one here has the skills of one Doctor Frankenstein. However, there is something you can do to help everyone, living and dead, within the walls of this house. Certain ghosts have certain 'haunts'--rooms of which they are particularly fond and which they like to inhabit. Back in 1867, on the fateful night of another New Year's Eve party, the former owner of this mansion murdered the six guests who had attended. The guests were all his enemies. One was his sister, who despised him. One was his former lover, who swore she would have nothing to do with him. One was a poor Gypsy girl, who told everyone's fortune and drew a bad Tarot card for Coombs. One was the principal investor of the Icecliff Steel Foundry, who hated him. One was a foreman, one of the best that Coombs had ever had--and who loathed him for not giving him the promotion he deserved. The last ghost and guest?"
She pursed her lips. "Donald Corbin. Next in line to run the Foundry. He had it in for Coombs, and he was also into the occult. Does that name sound familiar to you? It should. I am almost certain that Corbin fellow here tonight is a relative of that ghostly wretch who convinced Faktor to sell his soul to the Devil. If you can find the one room in this house that Donald Corbin haunts, and somehow figure out a way to obliterate his presence there, I would be glad." She raised an eyebrow. "After that...I'll take you to see him. Faktor needs help, but it's not the kind of help that I can give. After all, I can only barely see you, and there are others here who are more sensitive."