He walked across and examined it.
“It is a very good set, but there is something wrong. May I have an examination?”
“It is not ours you know; it belongs to the house, we only have the use of it while we are here.”
She watched him under the lamplight, his keen alert face and deft fingers suggested the artist. He fixed the ear phones to his head and began juggling with screws and wires in skillful manner. Ena watched him with the fascination a novice always feels for the expert, till the boiling kettle drew her to her duties with the teapot.
Halley removed the ear phones, and switched on the loud speaker, when a faint sound of music came forth.
“There is something wrong,” he said, “but I think I can put it right for you, if you will allow me to come again.”
“Why, certainly, but come and have a cup of tea now.”
They were soon sitting like old friends over the oil stove, discussing the place, and again she resorted to the gruesome crime which had fallen on the village—the murder of Lord Reckavile in his castle. Seeing that she was bent on discussing it he let her have her way.
“Did you ever see him?” he asked quietly.
“No, you know he very seldom came here. He had only been back from abroad quite a short time. It is altogether a mystery, but you know they say there is a curse on the family. No one will go near the castle now, even in the daytime, and you could not get anyone in the village to go there at night for any sum of money.”