This silence that followed was embarrassing, so embarrassing that Lady Dashwood broke into it urgently with the first subject that she could think of. "Tell May about the Barber's ghost, Jim." "Where does he appear?" asked May, interestedly, but without looking up. "What part of the college?" "In the library," said the Warden. "And at the witching hour of midnight, I suppose?" said May. "Birds of ill omen, I believe, appear at night," said the Warden. "All Souls College ought to have had an All Souls' ghost, but it hasn't, it has only its 'foolish Mallard.'" "And if he does appear," said May, "what apology are you going to offer him for the injustice of your predecessor in the eighteenth century?" The Warden turned and stood looking back across the room at the warm space of light and the two women sitting in it, with the firelight flickering between them. "If I were to make myself responsible for all the misdemeanours of the Reverend Charles Langley," he said, "I should have my hands full;" and he came slowly towards them as he spoke. "You have only to look at Langley's face, over the mantelpiece, and you will see what I mean." May Dashwood glanced up at the portrait and smiled. "Do you admire our Custos dilectissimus?" he asked. The lights were below the level of the portrait, but the hard handsome face with its bold eyes, was distinctly visible. He was looking lazily watchful, listening sardonically to the conversation about himself. "I admire the artist who painted his portrait," said May. "Yes, the artist knew what he was doing when he painted Langley," said the Warden. He seemed now to have recovered his ease, and stood leaning his arms on the back of the chair he had vacated. "Your idea is a good one," he went on. "I don't suppose it has occurred to any Warden since Langley's time that a frank and pleasant apology might lay the Barber's ghost for ever. Shall I try it?" he asked, looking at his guest. "My dear," said Lady Dashwood slowly, "I wish you wouldn't even joke about it--I dislike it. I wish people wouldn't invent ghost stories," she went on. "They are silly, and they are often mischievous. I wish you wouldn't talk as if you believed it." "It was you, Lena, who brought up the subject," said Middleton. "But I won't talk about him if you dislike it. You know that I am not a believer in ghosts." Lady Dashwood nodded her head approvingly, and began turning more pages of her book. "I sometimes wonder," said the Warden, and now he turned his face towards May Dashwood--"I wonder if men like Langley really believed in a future life?" May looked up at the portrait, but was silent.