"He shall return!"
CHAPTER X GHOST OR MORTAL?
On entering the house I found my uncle looking over a packet of letters that his valet had just brought from Rivoli. Daphne was cutting open the envelopes with a paper knife. No one would have thought from her quiet demeanour that she had just been the recipient of a passionate love appeal.
"How well women can conceal these things," I thought, dropping despondently into a chair.
"Oh, papa, here is an envelope with a seal as big as a florin. Who is it from?" Daphne's curiosity gave her no time to observe the niceties of grammar. "Do read it."
My uncle settled his glasses on his nose and examined the letter.
"It is from an old schoolfellow, Hugh Wyville," he said. "He has just succeeded to the baronetcy and is now Sir Hugh Wyville, and master of a splendid property in Cornwall. Silverdale Abbey is the name of his place. He wants us to spend Christmas with him. It's a little early for the invitation, but I suppose he wants to forestall all other invitations. He says—it is shocking writing; he ought to get a Secretary—he says he will take a great interest in my slaughter. What the deuce does he mean? Slaughter? Oh, I see—daughter. That's you, Daphne."
"Much obliged to him, I'm sure, papa."