"I should rather think it was," agreed Allen with enthusiasm. "No luck about it at all," corrected Isobel. "I heard he was in London, so of course he had to come here." Allen beamed. "I'd have every one of my friends here if I could only get hold of them," she added maliciously; Allen's face fell. "We must organize some cricket for you," went on the vicar. He was proceeding to enlarge on this congenial topic when his wife brought him sternly back to the object of his visit. "Is Sir Edward in?" she asked Miss FitzPeter. "The vicar and I have called to see him about...." She broke off her sentence in the middle with a startling suddenness and seemed to be struggling with herself. Mr. Davies, not knowing what was the matter, but anxious to cover his wife's confusion, hurled himself into the breach. "Yes," he corroborated, "we feel that he ought to be told that...." He got no further. A comical look of mingled fear and suspicion crossed his face. Isobel and Allen waited for the sentence to be brought to some conclusion, but in vain. "Well," replied Isobel, when it was plain that no more was forthcoming, "I believe dad is in the library. I--I hope nothing awful has happened--nobody's dead, or anything, are they?" The vicar looked distressed. "Oh, no, no. Nothing of that kind at all--not in the least. I just want to tell him that...." Again there was an awkward pause. All four were now plainly embarrassed. "I'm sorry--perhaps I oughtn't to have asked," Isobel apologized at last. There was just a touch of stiffness in her tone, and poor Mr. Davies grew more troubled than ever. "Not in the least," he protested. "Please don't think that. The whole matter is simply that.... I mean to say, you see, we...." A strained silence followed. "Please come in," Isobel said coldly. "I will see if dad is in." She and her visitors went into the house, leaving Allen lost in amazement. In a moment or two Isobel returned. "Tell me," Allen asked in a melodramatic stage whisper, "have they confessed?" "Not a thing. What can have made them behave like that?" "I thought it was my presence that was worrying them. After all, if he's murdered his mother-in-law for her lump sugar he'd hardly like to tell you about it before a comparative stranger." "Perhaps," suggested Isobel, "they've come to clear up the mystery of Denmore Manor." They both laughed. The Manor Mystery had become a family jest at Dunwater. "What's the latest about it?" "The plot thickens," answered Isobel. "My maid was full of rumors at teatime. Somebody--I couldn't make out who--has been up to the Manor and seen black men and, oh, every kind of horror. Martin was quite breathless with emotion when she told me about it." "I wonder how much there is in it." "I'd love to go and find out. Really, you know, it's time some sensible person went. According to the village these people might be cannibals." "Perhaps they are." "Well, whatever they are, I frankly own I'm curious about them."