"Very well, then," said their host, "we will proceed according to plan, as the Hun said when he retreated," and led the way towards the house.
For the first time in his life he played the host, and the rôle became him. True, the house was not his, but he knew and loved it, in his shy, unobtrusive fashion, and showed a knowledge of its contents that more than once caused Miss Mayne to glance at him with a half surprised, veiled appreciation. She herself spoke little, but, when she did, displayed a love of the beautiful and no small knowledge of many of the arts that beautified the interior of the mansion. The little party had reached the portrait gallery, and at Georgina's request Mouldy Jakes furnished them with thumb-nail sketches of the life histories of the originals. He talked in a dryly humorous fashion that held the children alternately entranced and convulsed with laughter, warming to his self-imposed task as Miss Mayne caught the infectious mirth and echoed the children's gurgles with her own clear sweet laugh.
"And who is that?" inquired Georgina, pointing to a bloodless-looking dame in blue satin holding a toy spaniel in her preposterously tapering hands.
"Ah!" said their host, "now we're getting to the really interesting ones. I was saving her for the last. There's a story about her you won't believe."
"Tell," commanded Jane, possessing herself of his undamaged hand.
"Well, this particular lady died—or at least they thought she was dead, and they planted—that's to say, buried her, in the vault attached to the chapel—I'll show you the place later on. She had a wedding-ring which was supposed to carry special luck to its wearer—it was rolled out of a piece of gold looted from a joss-house by some adventurous Manners. Anyhow, she was buried with this ring on, and in the night, one of the gardeners thought that, being alive and having use for good luck, he might as well have the ring as leave it where it was."
"Oh," said Miss Mayne, "I know the story—never mind, go on!" She turned and stared curiously at the impassive features of the lady.
"Well, the gardener got hold of the ring; he'd been apprenticed to a burglar as a lad before he took up gardening, and he had strong nerves as well. The trouble was that he couldn't separate the ring from the lady, and he didn't want her. He pulled hard, but he couldn't get it off. Not for nuts."
"I know what I should have done," said Cornelius James. "I should have cut off her finger."
"Corney!" protested his shocked sisters.