“I may? Then I place myself unreservedly in your hands,” said he. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You shall show me through the house and tell me the story of all the rooms—who was killed in which, and where the celebrated duel was fought—you may, by the aid of a reasonable amount of imagination, still see the marks of the bullets in the wainscot.”
“I never heard anything of that,” said Rosa. “A duel? When did it happen?”
“What, do you mean to say that there’s no room in this house where the celebrated duel was fought?” cried he. “And you can assure me that there’s no picture of an old reprobate who went in the county by the name of Butcher Wingfield—or was it old Black Jack Wingfield—maybe Five-bottle Wingfield?”
“I really can’t tell. All that I can say is that I never heard of any of them,” said Rosa.
“This is a nice thing to confront a chap who has just entered into possession of an old house and, as he hoped, a lot of ready-made ancestors,” said he mournfully. “Not one of them with any of the regulation tokens of the old and crusted ancestor about him! But you’ll at least show me the room that Nell Gwyn slept in—or was it the Young Pretender?—you’ll show me his initials, Y. P., that he carved on the eighteenth century panelling of the Priest’s Room with the sliding panel—you know?”
“Oh, yes, I know,” laughed Priscilla. “And the ghost of Lady Barbara that appears to the stranger who has been inadvertently put to sleep in the Blue Room, and the old chest where the bones were found, and the tiny pink shoes with genuine Liberty buckles.”
“You give me hope—the ghost of a hope—I mean the hope of a ghost. I expected half a dozen at least; but one sees, on reflection, that that would be unreasonable. I’ll be content with one if you throw the tiny shoes into the bargain.”
“I’m afraid that you’ll have to be contented with comfort and a surveyor’s certificate,” said Priscilla.
“What I am thinking is, who will give us a certificate that we have been reasonably engaged when we return home,” remarked Rosa, when they were rising from the table—he did not offer them cigarettes.
“Do you really think it possible that your people will be uneasy?” said he, with some concern in his voice. “It’s still raining. Will they not be certain that you took shelter somewhere? If there’s any doubt, I’ll send a message by my motor.”