“Well, let’s put it to the vote,” said Colin. “Father and Violet want me to stop trying to remember it; little do they know how it would amuse them if I did. Granny and I want me to go on—don’t you, dear—it all depends on Raymond. What shall I do, Ray?”
Raymond turned to his father, appearing not to hear Colin’s question.
“Did you have good sport last week?” he asked.
“Ah, Raymond votes against us, Granny,” said Colin. “He’s too polite to tell me directly. We’re squashed, Granny; we’ll squash them at whist afterwards; you and I shall be partners, and we’ll play Raymond and father for their immortal souls. It will be like the legend, won’t it? Violet shall look on and wonder whether her poor husband is going to heaven or hell. I keep my immortal soul in a drawer close to Violet’s bedside, Granny. So if we lose, she will have to go up to her bedroom and bring it down. Oh, I say, I’m talking too much. Nobody else can get a word in edgeways.”
It was a fact that the other four were silent, but Raymond had the faculty of producing silence in his neighbours. Cigarettes had come now with coffee, and this was the usual signal for old Lady Yardley to rise. To-night, however, she took no notice of the gold-mounted stick which was put into her hand by Philip.
“Never mind them, my dear,” she said, “they are amusing themselves. Listen to me, Colin.”
There was no other voice in the room but hers, the servants had gone out, and again she spoke. No one moved; no one spoke; but Raymond opposite her leaned forward; Violet leaned left-wise; Philip, with her stick in his hand leaned to the right. She dropped her voice to a whisper, but in the tense stillness a shout would not have been more audible.
“There are strange things in this house, darling,” said she to Colin. “I have been here sixty years, and I know better than anybody. Green leaf I have been, and flower and fruit, and now I am withered. Sixty years ago, my dear, I sold my soul to the master of it, and from that moment I have been a ghost, oh, such a happy ghost, looking on at the glory of the house. And then my son Philip married, and he brought you here, and the moment I set eyes on you I loved you, for I knew that you were born of the blood and the bargain....”
Philip drew back his chair and got up.
“There’s your stick, mother,” he said. “We’ll follow you quite soon, or it will be too late for your game of whist.”