“I was rather counting on you to keep Miss Burnaby company.”

Varick’s tone was not very pleasant, and Panton for a moment regretted he had come; but as he had passed through the hall he had seen the old lady nodding over a book, and he was well aware that had he stayed indoors, it would have been to work up in his own room.

Bill Donnington suddenly discovered that Bubbles was wearing absurd, high-heeled, London walking shoes.  “Go back and put on something more sensible,” he said shortly; “I’ll wait for you—­we’ll soon pick up the others.”

But Bubbles answered sullenly:  “My heavy walking boots got wet this morning.”

Even as she spoke, she stood irresolute.  Why not make her unsuitable foot-gear an excuse for staying at home?  She told herself discontentedly that she hated the thought of this walk.  But Donnington would have none of it.  “Never mind,” he said firmly, “you can change your shoes and stockings the minute you come in.”

Bubbles submitted with an ill grace, and after the whole party were clear of the islet on which stood Wyndfell Hall, she refused pettishly to walk anywhere near him.  She hung behind, even rejecting the company of James Tapster, to whom, however, she was for the most part fitfully gracious; and when, at length, the whole party were sorting themselves into couples, she found herself walking last with Varick, the others being all in front of them.

Varick was disagreeably conscious that with his present companion his charm of manner—­that something which drew to him all women and most men—­availed him not at all.  Still, to-day, he was determined to get on good terms with Bubbles.  So well did he succeed that at last something impelled her to say rather penitently:  “I want to tell you that what happened yesterday afternoon was not my fault, and that I’m very sorry it happened, Lionel.”

Donnington, who was just in front, heard Varick answer, lightly:  “You can hardly expect me to believe that, Bubbles!  But I would give a good deal to know how you do it?” As she made no answer, he went on:  “It’s a remarkable thing to be able to will people into seeing something which is not there!”

Donnington strained his ears to hear the low, defiant answer:  “I give you my word of honour that I knew nothing, nothing, till you came and woke me up!”

What was it that had happened yesterday?  The young man felt almost unbearably anxious to know.  All he knew was that it had greatly affected, surprised, and disturbed those who had been there.

Suddenly Varick’s tones floated again towards the listener:  “I’ll take your word for it, my dear girl.  After all, it’s all in the picture.  What with our ghosts, our practical jokes, and so on, we’re having a regular old-fashioned Christmas!  Still, when I heard Miss Brabazon give that dreadful cry, I did feel that one could have too much of a good thing.”

Even Donnington detected the false bonhomie in Varick’s voice.