It was all very well for Charlie to count on that blessed evening; but he reckoned without his host—or rather without his guests.
The Bushells came to lunch, Millie driving her terrified mother in a lofty gig; and at lunch Millie recounted her vision of Agatha Merceron. She did not believe it, of course; but it was queer, wasn’t it? Victor Sutton rose to the bait at once.
“We’ll investigate it,” he cried. “Merceron,” (he meant the patient Mr. Vansittart), “didn’t yon once write an article on ‘Apparitions’ for Intellect?”
“Yes, I proved there were none,” answered Mr. Vansittart.
“That’s impossible, you know,” remarked Mrs. Marland gently.
“We’ll put you to the proof this very evening,” declared Mr. Sutton.
Charlie started.
“Are you game, Miss Bushell?” continued Victor.
“Ye—yes, if you’ll keep quite near me, answered Millie, with a playful shudder. Charlie reflected how ill playfulness became her, and frowned. But Millie was pleased to see him frown; she enjoyed showing him that other men liked to keep quite near to her.
“Then this evening we’ll go in a body to the Pool.”