The walk by the lake was always shaded, but as the day was murky it was gloomier than ever.
“You like this place?” asked Tracy, with a glance at the black grove of aspens, and their dark reflection in the still water of the deep pool.
“Yes, I do; or, I did, until that man came up here. There’s no use in pursuing our investigations with him around.”
“All the more use,” declared Tracy. “If any supernatural things happen it will refute his cocksure decisions.”
“Yes, it would. Oh, I do wish a ghost would appear to him, and scare him out of his wits!”
“He has plenty of wits, Miss Carnforth, and he’d take some scaring, I think. But if a real phantasm came, he’d know it, and he’d acknowledge it, I’m sure. He strikes me as an honourable man, and a decent, straightforward sort.”
“If he is,” and Eve ruminated, “perhaps he can help us to investigate——”
“That’s what he’s here for.”
“I mean investigate our beliefs. If he could be convinced, as we are, of the existence of phantoms, and of their visitations, he’d be a splendid help, wouldn’t he? Perhaps I am in wrong in disliking him.”
“You’re certainly premature. Why, not one man out of a thousand does believe in the occult. And not one in a million detectives, I daresay.”