Thomas had a letter to write, for he maintained a lucrative correspondence with one who had an especial interest in Fossaway Manor, but first he had to report the gist of the conversation to Mr Glover, the butler.

“I don’t care what his lordship says (and why he should tell a footman and not me, I don’t know); there’s a ghost, and all sorts of people have seen it! I wouldn’t walk down Elm Drive alone at night for fifty million pounds!” This portly man shook a head that the years had silvered.

“And his lordship believes it too. I wish he was married, that’s what I wish. He’ll be more sensible then!”

“And we’d get rid of Mr Blooming Alford – eh, Mr Glover.”

The butler sniffed.

“There’s them that likes him and them that don’t,” said the oracle. “We’ve never had a cross word, Thomas – there’s somebody at the door.”

Thomas hurried to the hall entrance and opened the big door. A girl was standing under the portico. She was pretty in a bold way, red of lips and bright of eye and dressed expensively.

Thomas gave her a grin of recognition.

“Good morning, Miss Wenner – this is a bit of a surprise!”

“Is his lordship in, Thomas?”

The footman pursed his lips dubiously.

“He is in, miss, but I’m afraid I can’t take you in to him. Don’t blame me, miss, it’s Mr Alford’s orders.”

“Mr Alford!” she sneered. “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve come all the way from London and can’t see Lord Chelford?”

But Thomas kept his hand on the door. He liked the girl, who, when she had been his lordship’s secretary, had never given herself airs (the unpardonable sin of the servants’ hall), and who always had a smile for the meanest of the domestic staff. He would gladly have admitted her and felt that his lordship would have been pleased to see her, but in the background somewhere hovered Dick Alford, a man of curt speech, who was not only capable of showing him the door but kicking him through it.

“I’m very sorry, miss; but orders is orders, as you know.”

“I see!” she nodded ominously. “I’m to be turned away from what might have been my own door, Thomas.”

He tried to look his sympathy and succeeded in assuming an expression of imbecility. She smiled at him, shook hands with him graciously and turned away from the portico.

“Miss Wenner,” reported Thomas, “her that Alford fired because he thought his lordship was getting sweet on her–”

The library bell rang at that moment and Thomas hastened to answer the call.

“Who was that lady – I saw her through the window?”

“Miss Wenner, m’lord.”

A cloud passed over Harry Alford’s face.

“Did you – ask her to come in?”

“No, m’lord; Mr Alford gave orders–”