‘Oh, nothing, really. Tiny and I had a sudden flap lest we’d got the time of the invitation all wrong. You can’t want us for mid-day dinner and supper tomorrow as well as to tea and dinner on Boxing Day, can you?’

‘Yes, of course we can, you old ass! Why ever not?’

‘Well—’ Bill looked embarrassed. ‘Fact is, it’s all over the village that you’ve sent your cook and the maids home for Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and so we rather wondered – especially as we’ve saddled you with Obury and Mansell—’

‘Whether you’ll be asked to do the washing up? Well, you will! So if that puts you off, say so now.’

‘Oh, Lord, no! Only—’ he eyed the three empty glasses.

‘Yes, Mansell and Obury have gone out ghost-hunting in Groaning Spinney,’ said Jonathan, grinning.

‘But tonight it’s as black as a parson’s hat,’ said Bill, ‘even out in the open! I know my way blindfold, but I’ve brought my torch, all the same. Anyway, I believe it’s going to snow. Oh, well, I’ll push off.’ He eyed the decanter wistfully. Jonathan, who was a strong-minded, non-suggestible man, put the decanter into the sideboard cupboard and took out a bottle of gin. He grinned again as he put it opposite his guest. Bill laughed, and helped himself.

‘You’ll get one peg, and one only, tomorrow evening, and the same on Boxing Day,’ stated Jonathan. ‘That’s the only bottle of Scotch I’ve been able to scrounge from anywhere, and I’ve had to open it already.’

Bill swallowed his drink, and had been gone half an hour when Mansell and Obury returned. They had signs and wonders to report. Between mouthfuls of sausage roll they reported them.

‘Well,’ said Jonathan, gathering what he could from the tale, ‘everybody round here has seen him, so why not you?’

‘But we couldn’t have seen him!’ said Mansell. ‘Had it been moonlight, I’d have thought my eyesight was playing me tricks, but it was as black as pitch except for this queer light shining on a dead-white face. I’m convinced it was merely somebody playing the fool.’

‘Then it must have been Bill Fullalove,’ said Jonathan. ‘He dropped in while you were gone. You’d better have it out with him tomorrow. He’s coming to dinner.’

‘When did he come?’ asked Mansell.

‘Oh, elevenish, I believe.’

‘And when did he leave?’

‘The same. I mean, he wasn’t here more than ten minutes, I should say.’

‘Must have been Bill,’ said Mansell.

‘Rot!’ said Obury, flatly. ‘It was the ghost. I won’t be done out of my spook!’