“No. We have no ghosts at Cromarty Manor. We’ve always been a peaceful sort, except that my great uncle quarrelled with my grandfather.”
“Mrs. Cromarty’s husband?”
“Yes. He was Roger Cromarty—grandfather was, I mean—and he had a brother Marmaduke. They were both high-tempered, and Marmaduke after an unusually fierce quarrel left home and went to India. But have you never heard the story of the Cromarty Fortune?”
“No, I never have. Is it a sad story? Would you rather not tell me?”
“Why, no; it isn’t a sad story, except that the conditions are rather sad for us. But there’s no reason in the world why you shouldn’t hear it, if you care to. Indeed, I supposed Mabel had already told it you.”
“No, she never did. Will you?”
“Yes. But not here. Let us go in, and get the family all together, and we’ll give you a dramatic recital of the Great Cromarty Mystery.”
“Oh, is it a mystery story? How delightful. I love a mystery.”
“I’m glad you do, but I assure you I wish it wasn’t a mystery.”
“Will it never be solved?”