She did not answer him.  “I wanted to tease you,” she said lightly.  “And I did it too, didn’t I?  I pretended I was Andromeda when I got round the corner, but no Perseus came to save me.  Only an angry dragon ramped about behind.”

Bunny stared at her as if he thought her bewitched.  “But you were over by that north wall once.  I’ll swear you were over there.”

“Oh, don’t swear!” she said demurely.  “It’s so wrong.  I wasn’t there really.  I only sent my voice that way to frighten you.”

“Good heavens!” gasped Bunny.

She laughed again with gay insouciance.  “Haven’t I given you a splendid evening’s entertainment?  Well, it’s all over now, and the curtain’s down.  Let’s go!”

She turned with her hand in his and led him back to the turret-door.

Reaching it, he sought to detain her.  “You’ll never do it again?  Promise—­promise!”

“I won’t promise anything,” she said lightly.

“Ah, but you must!” he insisted.  “Toby, you might have killed yourself.”

Her laugh suddenly had a mocking sound.  “Oh, no!  I shall never kill myself on Lord Saltash’s premises,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” questioned Bunny.

“Because—­que voulez-vous?—­he would want me neither dead nor alive,” she made reckless answer.

“A good thing too!” declared Bunny stoutly.

The echoes of Toby’s laughter as she went down the chill, dark stairway had an eerie quality that sent an odd shiver through his heart.  Somehow it made him think of the unquiet spirit that was said to haunt the place—­a spirit that wandered alone—­always alone—­in the utter desolation.

PART III

CHAPTER I

THE VIRTUOUS HERO

“How long is this absurd farce to go on?” said Larpent.

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” grinned Saltash.

Larpent looked sardonic.

Saltash took up the whisky decanter.  “My worthy buccaneer, you don’t know when you’re lucky.  If I had a reputation like yours—­” He broke off, still grinning.  “Well, it’s no use crying over spilt milk, is it?  Let’s spill some whisky instead!  Say when!”

Larpent watched him, frowning.  “Thanks!  That’s enough.  I should like an answer to my question if you’ve no objection.  How long is this practical joke going to last?”

Saltash turned and looked upon him with a calculating eye.  “I really don’t know what’s troubling you,” he remarked.  “You’ve got everything in your favour.  I’d change places with you with all the pleasure in the world if circumstances permitted.”

“That isn’t the point, is it?” said Larpent.

“No?  What is the point?” Saltash turned again to the whisky decanter.

“Well, you’ve got me into a damn’ hole, and I want to know how you’re going to get me out again.”  Larpent’s voice was gruff and surly; he stared into his tumbler without drinking.