“No,” said Sir Lyon thoughtfully.  “No, the house had not been exorcised.  As a matter of fact, the medium was killed in a railway accident.”

They walked on, and fell to talking of indifferent things.  But though Sir Lyon had at one time held many such conversations with sceptical or interested persons, this particular conversation will never be forgotten by him, owing to a strange occurrence which happened in the afternoon of that same day.  But for two fortunate facts—­the bravery of young Donnington, and the presence of a clever medical man—­the pleasant comedy in which they were each and all playing an attractive part would have been transformed into a peculiarly painful tragedy.

CHAPTER XVI

While three members of the party had thus been walking and talking, the principal subject of their discussion, Bubbles Dunster, had gone through an exciting and unpleasant experience.

When starting out for a solitary walk to give Span a run, she saw, with annoyance, James Tapster following her, and to her acute discomfiture he managed to stammer out what was tantamount to an offer of marriage.  Though, in a sense, she had certainly tried to attract him, she felt, all at once, miserably ashamed of her success.  So much so, indeed, that she pretended at first not to understand what he meant.  But at last she had to leave such pretence aside, and then it was she who surprised Mr. Tapster, for, “You must let me have time to think over the great honour you have done me,” she said quietly.  “If you want an answer now, it must be no.”

He protested sulkily that of course he would give her as much time as she wanted, and then she observed, slyly, “I am sure that you yourself did not make up your mind to be married all in a minute, Mr. Tapster.  You weighed the pros and cons very carefully, no doubt.  So you must give me time to do so too.”

Bubbles’ measured words, the feeling that she was, so to speak, keeping him at arm’s length, took the hapless Tapster aback, and frightened him a little.  He had felt so sure that once he had made up his own mind she would eagerly say “Yes!” Often, during the last few days, he had told himself, with a kind of mirthless chuckle, that he was not going to be “caught”; but when, at last, he had made up his mind that Bubbles would make him, if not an ideal, then a very suitable, wife, it seemed strange indeed that she was not eager to “nail him.”  That she was not exactly eager to do so was apparent, even to him.

Calling Span sharply to her, the girl turned round, and began making her way towards the house again; finally she disappeared with Span in the direction of the servants’ quarters.

James Tapster, walking on by himself, began to feel unaccountably frightened.  He asked himself, uneasily, almost uttering the words aloud in his agitation, whether, after all, he had been “caught”; and whether Bubbles was only “making all this fuss” in order to “bring him to heel”?  But two could play at that game.  He toyed seriously, or so he believed, with the idea of ordering his motor and just “bolting”; but of course he did nothing of the kind.  The more Bubbles hung back, the more he wanted her; her coldness stung him into something nearer ardour than he had ever felt.