"Why are you so afraid of it?" Strange asked her. "You must have some reason other than village-gossip. Has anything happened to alarm you?"
She gave a tiny shiver. "I'm a fool, that's all," she answered. "Let's go into the library." A tray with drinks had been set out there. "Do help yourself," she said. "There's whisky, or a soft drink, whichever you prefer."
"Can I bring you anything?"
"I'd like some lemonade, please."
Mrs. Bosanquet emerged from the cloud of tulle she had swathed round her head. "My own opinion is, and always will be," she said firmly, "that there are no such things as ghosts. And if - mind you, I only say if - I thought there was anything odd about a house, I, personally, should inform the police."
Strange carried a glass over to where Celia was sitting. "Is that what you've done?" he asked.
"Not at all," she replied. "I said "if."'
"Would you do that, Mr. Strange?" Margaret inquired. Just supposing you heard weird sounds and things?"
"No, I don't think I should," he said. "I'm afraid I haven't much opinion of village policemen."
"My husband hasn't either," Celia said. She heard a latchkey grate in the lock. "Here he is!" she said. "Is that you, Charles?"