But there are two or three as bad—that is, as good!—rooms as you'll find anywhere.'
'Do you mean in my corridor?' Lyon asked.
'I believe the worst is at the far end. But you would be ill-advised to sleep there.'
'Ill-advised?'
'Until you've finished your job. You'll get letters of importance the next morning, and you'll take the 10.20.'
'Do you mean I will invent a pretext for running away?'
'Unless you are braver than almost any one has ever been. They don't often put people to sleep there, but sometimes the house is so crowded that they have to. The same thing always happens—ill-concealed agitation at the breakfast-table and letters of the greatest importance. Of course it's a bachelor's room, and my wife and I are at the other end of the house. But we saw the comedy three days ago—the day after we got here. A young fellow had been put there—I forget his name—the house was so full; and the usual consequence followed. Letters at breakfast—an awfully queer face—an urgent call to town—so very sorry his visit was cut short. Ashmore and his wife looked at each other, and off the poor devil went.'
'Ah, that wouldn't suit me; I must paint my picture,' said Lyon. 'But do they mind your speaking of it? Some people who have a good ghost are very proud of it, you know.'
What answer Colonel Capadose was on the point of making to this inquiry our hero was not to learn, for at that moment their host had walked into the room accompanied by three or four gentlemen.
