In a momentary lull in the general conversation Celia's voice was heard. "And you saw this rare moth in our grounds? How exciting! Tell me what it looks like."
"Ah, that oleander hawk-moth," said Charles. "Did you have any luck, sir?"
"Not yet," Mr. Titmarsh said. "Not yet, but I do not despair."
The Colonel broke off in the middle of what he was saying to Mrs. Bosanquet to exclaim: "Hullo, have you been chasing moths at the Priory, Titmarsh? Never shall forget how I took you for a burglar when I first found you in my garden."
His hearty laugh was echoed more mildly by the entomologist, who said: "I fear I am somewhat remiss in asking the permission of my good neighbours if I may trespass harmlessly on their land. Your husband," he added, looking at Celia, "mistook me for a ghost."
"Oh, have you seen the Priory ghost yet?" Mrs. Roote inquired. "Do harrow us! I adore having my flesh made to creep."
Strange, who had looked directly across the table at Mr. Titmarsh from under his black brows, said quietly to Margaret: "Is that really true? Does he prowl round the countryside looking for moths?"
"Yes, so they all say. Charles and Peter saw him in our garden last night. He's rather eccentric, I think."
"What with myself and - what's his name? Titmarsh? - you seem to be beset by people who roam about your grounds at will," Strange remarked. "If I remember rightly you said you took me for the ghost as well."
"Ah, that was just a joke," Margaret answered. "I didn't really. And of course Charles and Peter wouldn't have taken Mr. Titmarsh for one in the ordinary course of events."