She pondered over the occurrence while dressing next morning, wondering what it meant.
Downstairs she found only Jeffrey in the dining-room.
“Hear anything funny in the night, Maida?” he asked her.
“Yes; a bugle,” she returned. “Did you hear it?”
“Of course I did. Who plays the thing around here?”
“No one, that I know of. Wasn’t it rather strange?”
“Rath-er! I should say so. Made me think of the old English castles, where spooks walk the parapets and play on bugles or bagpipes or some such doings.”
“Oh, those silly stories! But this was a real bugle, played by a real man.”
“How do you know?”
“By the sound.”