every game or sport that's ever been invented, and,
as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony, there's
a faint sort of feeling that well, that one is on parade, as it were.
You've got to do as you're told."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He arranges
things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with the
arrangement. For instance, Betty--Miss Calladine--and I were going to
play a single just before tea, the other day. Tennis. She's frightfully
hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take me on level. I'm rather
erratic, you know. Mark saw us going out with our rackets and asked us
what we were going to do. Well, he'd got up a little tournament for
us after tea--handicaps all arranged by him, and everything ruled out
neatly in red and black ink--prizes and all--quite decent ones, you
know. He'd had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
Betty and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
ready to play again after tea--I had to give her half-fifteen according
to his handicap--but somehow--" Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.

"It didn't quite fit in?"

"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn't play." He laughed, and added,
"It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played."

"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"

"Probably. Well, I don't know. Not for some time, anyway."

"Really, Bill?"

"Oh, rather! He's a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris, did you
see her? She's done for herself. I don't mind betting what you like that
she never comes here again."

"Why?"

Bill laughed to himself.

"We were all in it, really--at least, Betty and I were. There's supposed
to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
her?"

"Never."

"Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn't
believe in ghosts. I think he wanted all of us to believe in her, and
yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for believing in ghosts
at all. Rum chap. Well, anyhow, Miss Norris--she's an actress, some
actress too--dressed up as the ghost and played the fool a bit. And poor
Mark was frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know."

"What about the others?"

"Well, Betty and I knew; in fac