Read Online The Red House Mystery by A. A. Milne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. A. Milne
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you
know. He'd had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
Betty and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
ready to play again after tea—I had to give her half-fifteen according
to his handicap—but somehow—" Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
"It didn't quite fit in?"
"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn't play." He laughed, and added,
"It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played."
"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
"Probably. Well, I don't know. Not for some time, anyway."
"Really, Bill?"
"Oh, rather! He's a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris, did you
see her? She's done for herself. I don't mind betting what you like that
she never comes here again."
"Why?"
Bill laughed to himself.
"We were all in it, really—at least, Betty and I were. There's supposed
to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
her?"
"Never."
"Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn't
believe in ghosts. 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?"
"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her—Miss Norris I mean—not
to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn't there—Betty
wouldn't let her be. As for the Major, I don't believe anything would
frighten him."
"Where did the ghost appear?"
"Down by the bowling-green. That's supposed to be its haunt, you know.
We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
you know the bowling-green?"
"No."
"I'll show it to you after dinner."
"I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
"Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he's just like that."
"Was he angry with all of you?"
"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
"This morning?"
"Oh, no. He got over it he generally does. He's just like a child.
That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways. As a matter of
fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"Rather. We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
"Is he generally in form?"
"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling you and
self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and—" Bill broke off
suddenly. "I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about your
host like this."
"Don't think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected murderer
with a warrant out against him."
"Oh! but that's all rot, you know."
"It's the fact, Bill."
"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it. He wouldn't murder anybody. It's a
funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it. He's got his
faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that scale."
"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. "All the same," he
said, "I can't believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I mean."
"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
run away?"
Bill considered for a moment.
"Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
the ghost. Of course, that's different, rather."
"Oh, I don't know. In each case it's a question of obeying your instinct
instead of your reason."
They had left the open land and were following a path through the
bordering trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were outside
the boundary fence and in the high road. The road sloped gently
know. He'd had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
Betty and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
ready to play again after tea—I had to give her half-fifteen according
to his handicap—but somehow—" Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
"It didn't quite fit in?"
"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn't play." He laughed, and added,
"It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played."
"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
"Probably. Well, I don't know. Not for some time, anyway."
"Really, Bill?"
"Oh, rather! He's a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris, did you
see her? She's done for herself. I don't mind betting what you like that
she never comes here again."
"Why?"
Bill laughed to himself.
"We were all in it, really—at least, Betty and I were. There's supposed
to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
her?"
"Never."
"Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn't
believe in ghosts. 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?"
"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her—Miss Norris I mean—not
to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn't there—Betty
wouldn't let her be. As for the Major, I don't believe anything would
frighten him."
"Where did the ghost appear?"
"Down by the bowling-green. That's supposed to be its haunt, you know.
We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
you know the bowling-green?"
"No."
"I'll show it to you after dinner."
"I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
"Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he's just like that."
"Was he angry with all of you?"
"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
"This morning?"
"Oh, no. He got over it he generally does. He's just like a child.
That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways. As a matter of
fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And yesterday."
"Yesterday?"
"Rather. We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
"Is he generally in form?"
"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling you and
self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and—" Bill broke off
suddenly. "I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about your
host like this."
"Don't think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected murderer
with a warrant out against him."
"Oh! but that's all rot, you know."
"It's the fact, Bill."
"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it. He wouldn't murder anybody. It's a
funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it. He's got his
faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that scale."
"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. "All the same," he
said, "I can't believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I mean."
"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
run away?"
Bill considered for a moment.
"Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
the ghost. Of course, that's different, rather."
"Oh, I don't know. In each case it's a question of obeying your instinct
instead of your reason."
They had left the open land and were following a path through the
bordering trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were outside
the boundary fence and in the high road. The road sloped gently
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