“Oh, dear! and they were implored not to talk. They never think of the harm this kind of thing does to the College.”

“Well, but it’s only a rag, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more than that. Look here, if I tell you why it’s hush-hush, will you promise not to pass it on?”

“Well,” said Lord Saint-George, candidly, “you know how my tongue runs away with me. I’m not very dependable.”

“Your uncle says you are.”

“Uncle Peter? Good lord! he must be potty. Sad to see a fine brain going to rack and ruin. Of course, he’s not as young as he was… You’re looking very sober about it.”

“It is rather grim, really. We’re afraid the trouble’s caused by somebody who’s not quite right in her head. Not a student-but of course we can’t very well tell the students that, especially when we don’t know who it is.”

The viscount stared. “Good lord! How beastly for you! I quite see your point. Naturally you don’t want a thing like that to get about. Well, I’ll not say a word-honestly, I won’t. And if anybody mentions it I’ll register a concentrated expression of no enthusiasm. I say! Do you know, I wonder if I’ve met your ghost.”

“Met her?”

“Yes. I certainly met somebody who didn’t seem quite all there. It scared me a bit. You’ll be the first person I’ve told about it.”

“When was this? Tell me about it.”

“End of last term. I was awfully short of cash, and I’d had a bet with a man that I’d get into Shrewsbury and-” He stopped and looked up at her with the smile that was so uncannily not his own. “What do you know about that?”

“If you mean that bit of the wall by the private gate, it’s having a set of spikes put on it. The revolving sort.”

“Ah, all is known. Well, it wasn’t an awfully good night for it-full moon and all that-but it seemed about the last chance to get that ten quid, so I hopped over. There’s a bit of a garden there.”

“The Fellows’ Garden. Yes.”

“Yes. Well, I was just pushing along there, when somebody hopped out from behind a bush and grabbed me. My heart nearly shot right out of my mouth on to the lawn. I wanted to do a bunk.”

“What was the person like?”

“It was in black and had a bit of black stuff sort of twisted round its head. I couldn’t see anything but its eyes, and they looked beastly. So I said, ‘Oh, gosh!’ and she said, ‘Which of ’em do you want?’ in a horrid voice, like glue. Well, that wasn’t nice and not what I expected. I don’t pretend to be a good boy, but such were not my intentions at the time. So I said, ‘Nothing of the sort; I only made a bet I wouldn’t be caught, and I have been caught, so I’ll go away and I’m sorry.’ So she said, ‘Yes, go away. We murder beautiful boys like you and eat their hearts out.’ So I said, ‘Good God! how very unpleasant.’ I didn’t like it a bit.”

“Are you making all this up?”

“Honestly, I’m not. Then she said, ‘The other one had fair hair, too.’ And I said ‘No, did he really?’ And she said something, I forget what-it seemed to me she had a kind of hungry look about her, if you know what I mean-and anyhow, it was all most uncomfortable, and I said, ‘Excuse me, I think I’d better be getting along,’ and I pulled free (she was uncommonly strong in the wrists) and legged it over the wall like one John Smith.”

Harriet looked at him, but he appeared to be perfectly serious.

“How tall was she?”

“About your height, I should think, or a bit less. Honestly, I was too scared to notice much. I couldn’t recognize her again, I don’t think. She didn’t give me the impression of being a young thing, and that’s about all I can tell you.”

“And you say you’ve kept this remarkable story to yourself?”

“Yes. Doesn’t sound like me, does it? But there was something about it-I don’t know. If I’d told any of the men, they’d have thought it howlingly funny. But it wasn’t. So I didn’t mention it. It didn’t seem the right thing, somehow.”

“I’m glad you didn’t want it laughed at.”

“No. The boy has quite nice instincts. Well, that’s all. Twenty-five, eleven, nine; that blasted car simply eats oil and petrol-all those big engines do. It’s going to be awfully awkward about that insurance. Please, dear Aunt Harriet, need I do any more of these? They depress me.”

“You can leave them till I’ve gone, and write all the cheques and envelopes yourself.”

“Slave-driver. I shall burst into tears.”

“I’ll fetch you a handkerchief.”

“You are the most unwomanly woman I ever met. Uncle Peter has my sincere sympathy. Look at this! Sixty-nine, fifteen-account rendered; I wonder what it was all about.”

Harriet said nothing, but continued to make out the cheques.

“One thing, there doesn’t seem to be much at Blackwell’s. A mere trifle of six pounds twelve.”

“ One halfpennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack.”

“Did you catch that habit of quotation from Uncle Peter?”

“You needn’t lay any more burdens on your uncle’s shoulders.”

“Must you rub it in? There’s practically nothing at the wine-merchant’s either. Hard drinking has quite gone out. Isn’t that satisfactory? Of course, the Governor obliges with a bottle or two from time to time. Did you like that Niersteiner the other day? Uncle Peter obliged with that. How many more of these things are there?”

“Quite a few.”

“Oh! My arm aches horribly.”

“If you’re really too tired-”

“No, I can manage.”

Half an hour later, Harriet said, “That’s the lot.”

“Thank God! Now talk prettily to me.”

“No; I must get back now. I’ll post these on my way.”

“You’re not really going? Right away?”

“Yes; right away to London.”

“Wish I was you. Shall you be up next term?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, dear, oh, dear! Well, kiss me good-bye nicely.”

Since she could think of no form of refusal that might not provoke some nerve-shattering comment, Harriet sedately complied. She was turning to go, when the nurse arrived to announce another visitor. This was a young woman, dressed in the more foolish extreme of the current fashion, with an intoxicated-looking hat and bright purple finger-nails, who advanced, crying sympathetically:

“Oh, darling Jerry! How too ruinously shattering!”

“Good lord, Gillian!” said the viscount, without very much enthusiasm. “How did you-?”

“My lamb! You don’t sound very pleased to see me.”

Harriet escaped, and found the nurse in the passage, putting an armful of roses in a bowl.

“I hope I haven’t tired your patient too much with all that business.”

“I’m glad you came to help him out with it; it was on his mind. Aren’t these roses beautiful? The young lady brought them from London. He gets a lot of visitors. But you can’t wonder, can you? He’s a dear boy, and the things he says to Sister! It’s as much as one can do to keep a straight face. He’s looking a lot better now, don’t you think? Mr. Whybrow’s made a beautiful job of the cut on his head. He’s got his stitches put now-oh, yes! it’ll hardly show at all. It is a mercy, isn’t it? Because he’s ever so handsome.”

“Yes; he’s a very good-looking young man.”

“He takes after his father. Do you know the Duke of Denver? He’s ever so handsome, too. I shouldn’t call the Duchess good-looking; more distinguished. She was terribly afraid he might be disfigured for life, and it would have been a pity. But Mr. Whybrow’s a splendid surgeon. You’ll see he’ll be quite all right. Sister’s ever so pleased-we tell her she’s quite lost her heart to Number Fifteen. I’m sure we shall all be sorry to say good-bye to him; he keeps us all lively.”

“I expect he does.”

“And the way he pulls Matron’s leg. Impudent young monkey, she calls him, but she can’t help laughing at his ways. Oh, dear! there’s Number Seventeen ringing again. I expect she wants a bed-pan. You know your way out, don’t you?”

Harriet departed; feeling that it might be rather an onerous position to be aunt to Lord Saint-George.