She turned on him.
“How unromantic you are. I would like to buy this place, and turn it into a sort of Monte Christo’s cave.”
“And get chronic rheumatism,” said Allery, laughing.
“Well, I must give way to the craving for lunch,” she said, and led the way out.
When they had got back in the afternoon, Mabel’s old nurse met them with a startling announcement. Old John, the butler, had seen a ghost, and was prostrated with terror.
“Nonsense,” said Collins, “ghosts don’t come in the day time, it’s against all the rules of the game. Let’s have him up and question him.”
Mabel did not take it quite so lightly. “Poor old man,” she said, “he has been brooding on my father’s death, and I expect he has imagined things.”
“Better ask for the cellar key,” said Sanders.
Mabel turned on him, angrily. “That’s a mean thing to say. John has been with us now for twenty-five years and I have never known him the worse for drink.”
Sanders hastily apologised.