They entered the drawing-room to find that Mr. Titmarsh, and Dr Roote and his wife, fellow-guests, had already arrived, and Celia was just telling her host laughingly that if they were late he must blame her menfolk, when the Colonel's butler opened the door to announce yet another guest. To Peter's amazement Michael Strange walked into the room.
"I don't think you know Strange, do you?" the Colonel said, to the room at large. He began to introduce the dark young man.
"Yes, we've met twice," Margaret said, when it came to her turn. She smiled at Strange. "How do you do? How's the fishing?"
"Splendid!" he said. He turned to Charles. "Have you tried the streams here yet?"
Seen in such civilised surroundings it was hard to believe that this young man was the same who had, not an hour ago, held a furtive conversation with a character whose own words proclaimed him to be a member of the criminal classes. Feeling more completely at sea than ever, Charles answered his question with a description of the afternoon's sport. Dinner was announced almost immediately, and the Colonel began to marshal his guests.
"I must apologise for our uneven numbers," he said breezily. "Four ladies to six men! Well, I think we'd better go in all together. Mrs. Bosanquet, let me show you the way."
"Too many men is a fault on the good side, anyway, isn't it?" Mrs. Roote said. She was a good-looking blonde, grown a little haggard, and with a rather harsh voice. Her husband was an untidy individual of some forty years whose huskiness of speech and rather hazy eye betrayed his weakness. His address, however, was pleasant, and he seemed to be getting on well with Celia, whom he took in to dinner behind the Colonel and Mrs. Bosanquet.
The White House was a solid Victorian building, with large airy rooms, and the boon of electric light. It was furnished in good if rather characterless style, but evidence of the Colonel's ownership existed in the various trophies that adorned the dining-room walls. Mrs. Bosanquet remarked as she took her seat at the round table that it was pleasant to find herself in an upto-date house again.
"Oh, I'm afraid the White House is a very dull affair after the Priory," Colonel Ackerley replied. "Suits me, you know; never had much use for old buildings. Full of draughts and inconvenience, I always say, but I'm afraid I'm a regular vandal. I can see Mrs. Malcolm shaking her head at me."
Celia laughed. "I wasn't," she assured him. "I was shaking it at Mr. Titmarsh." She turned to her other neighbour again. "No, I'm absolutely ignorant about butterflies and things, but it sounds most interesting. Do…'