Ooops. They also learn that the ghost in question is one "P. T. Sandover," the never-married founder of Sandover Bridge & Iron, who died in 1916 at the age of 75. Sandover was cremated, but during The Depression, The Sandover Building experienced an unusual rash of suicides as gruesome as the current spate, with 17 employees offing themselves in the 17 business days after the stock market collapsed on October 24, 1929. (Yes, "business days" -- check the date on the article Sam Wesson's reading during this scene and do the math.) So, it appears that the ghost of the company's founder reappears during times of extreme economic distress in order to implement his own -- and far cheaper, when you think about it -- layoff strategy. Also? The Sandover Building used to be only 14 stories tall rather than its current 22, and Room 1444? P. T. Sandover's office. Now, have you got all that? "I do indeed!" Excellent.

Later that evening -- it's got to be the middle of the night by now -- Smith & Wesson return to The Sandover Tower toting gym bags stuffed with a hastily assembled array of ghost-hunting materiel, and after they've set their cells to walkie-talkie mode (you can do that? How fucking annoying) they decide to search for any personal items Sandover might have left behind in his old office in order to burn the things, of course, thereby ridding the office of its imperious and infernal former owner for good. They find nothing, and even worse, Sam Wesson's caught by a security guard -- why the security guard wasn't aware they entered the building in the first place, I'll never know -- so Dean Smith's forced to figure out a plan on his own while the runty little Canadian-accented security guard drags the 15-foot-tall portent of tech support doom downstairs to talk to the cops.

And then? Why, quite simply the most awesome scene in the entire goddamned episode! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Save your vocal cords, Raoul. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Fine. Shriek yourself hoarse. See if I care. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Oh, Jesus. So, the runty little Canadian-accented security guard loads Sam Wesson into an elevator, and they begin their descent to the lobby. One problem: Around the tenth floor, the car's video screen starts buzzing and blinking and flickering on and off before it simply gives out and starts blasting an endless stream of televisual snow. DUN! And on top of that? The car's occupants can now see their breath. DUN! And on top of that? The elevator shudders to an abrupt stop between the ninth and tenth floors. Dun-dun-DUN! Of course, the runty little Canadian-accented security guard immediately keys the emergency release on the elevator's control panel and pries open the outer doors to find the tenth floor level with his head. "Well, come on," he mutters to his temporary prisoner as the car creaks ominously around them. Because he is a sane person, Sam Wesson balks. "Let's just wait!" he pleads, quite adorably terror-stricken at the very idea of wriggling out onto the tenth floor, what with the elevator cables sounding like they're about to snap at any second right above his freakishly large head. The runty little Canadian-accented security guard scoffs at Sam Wesson's fear and pushes the upper half of his body out onto the tenth floor, and I swear to God, as this episode was first airing, I thought Sam Wesson was going to reach to give the guy a boost, only to have the elevator fall at that very moment, leaving Sam Wesson standing there holding the guy's severed legs while the runty little Canadian-accented security guard bled to death on the floor outside. "VIOLENCE! WANTON ACTS OF UNREPENTANT VIOLENCE AND..." Raoul! I said, "I thought Sam Wesson blah blah et cetera." That's not what actually happens. "Rats!" Just wait -- what does happen is worth it. "Hooray!"