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Updated: June 23, 2025
Betty was the eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the painter, who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth Norris took herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as a golfer. She was quite competent as either. Neither the Stage Society nor Sandwich had any terrors for her.
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?"
Calladine, who knew this little weakness of their host's, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs. Calladine, without actually saying that Mr.
Calladine was driving over with the players in order to lunch with an old friend who lived near the links, and Mark and Cayley were remaining at home on affairs. Apparently "affairs" were now to include a prodigal brother. But that need not make the foursome less enjoyable. Having received directions, he left his bag with the station-master and walked off leisurely.
"Isn't that what you mean, Mrs. Calladine?" "Where is Mark?" said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony. Antony looked back unwaveringly and said nothing. "I think," said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine, "that it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night." "Very well," she agreed quietly. "You will come with us, Ruth?"
"Yes Angela Norbury," murmured Bill. "Not bad-looking, is she?" The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill was keeping his superlatives for another. In Bill's eyes she must be judged, and condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine.
You have to go anyhow, to-morrow, Major Rumbold?" "Yes. I'll come with you, Mrs. Calladine." "Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not hesitate to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as regard any telephoning or telegraphing that you want done."
I'm afraid I've got some bad news." Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs. Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in a low voice. "I'm afraid I'm going to give you rather a shock," he said. "Robert Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett's brother, has been killed." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "In the house." "Good God!" said the Major.
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.
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