"That and other odd sounds. It's nothing."
The Colonel drank the rest of his tea in two gulps. "Well, it's not often one comes across two such sensible ladies," he said. "I don't mind admitting to you that if I were in a house and heard what you call odd sounds I don't believe I could stand it. Bullets I can put up with at a pinch, but I draw the line at spooks. Yes, I draw the line at spooks, and I'm not ashamed to say so."
"I quite agree with you," Mrs. Bosanquet said, bestowing her placid smile upon him. "I can't approve of this modern craze for the supernatural. I once spent a whole hour with a Ouija board, and the only thing it wrote was M about a hundred times, and then something that looked like Mother's Marmalade, which seemed to me absurd."
"You ought to try again here, Aunt," said Margaret. "Then, if there's anything in it, perhaps our ghost will tell you the story of his life."
"Who knows?" said Peter flippantly, "he might even lead you to some hidden treasure."
Mrs. Bosanquet merely shook her head, but the idea seemed to take root in her mind, for when Charles and Peter came back from seeing the Colonel out, she suddenly said: "Though mind you, Peter, if there were a ghost here I know just what I should do."
"Of course you do, darling," said Charles. "You'd put your head under the clothes, and say your prayers, same as you did when your flat was burgled."
Mrs. Bosanquet was quite unabashed. "I should instantly summon the Vicar to exorcise it," she said with dignity.
Charles' shout of laughter was broken off sharply. A sound, like a groan, muffled as though by stone walls, startled him into silence. "Good God, what's that?" he rapped out.
Celia had grown suddenly white, and instinctively Margaret drew closer to her brother. The groan had held a note almost like a wail, long-drawn-out and slowly dying.