“I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that Mark should be thoroughly frightened. Without the passage she could never have got close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him properly, but as I arranged it with her she made the most effective appearance, and Mark was in just the state of rage and vindictiveness which I required. Miss Norris, you understand, is a professional actress. I need not say that to her I appeared to be animated by no other feeling than a boyish desire to bring off a good joke—a joke directed as much against the others as against Mark. “He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with indignation. Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I was to make a special note of it; never again. It was outrageous. Had he not a reputation as a host to keep up, he would pack her off next morning. As it was, she could stay; hospitality demanded it; but never again would she come to the Red House—he was absolutely determined about that. I was to make a special note of it. “I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers. She had behaved very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show how much he disapproved of her. And of course she would never come again—that was obvious. And then suddenly I began to laugh. He looked up at me indignantly. “Is there a joke?” he said coldly. “I laughed gently again. “‘I was just thinking,’ I said, ‘that it would be rather amusing if you—well, had your revenge.” “‘My revenge? How do you mean?’ “‘Well, paid her back in her own coin.’ “‘Do you mean try and frighten her?’ “‘No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit. Made her look a fool in front of the others.’ I laughed to myself again. ‘Serve her jolly well right.’ “He jumped up excitedly. “‘By Jove, Cay!’ he cried. ‘If I could! How? You must think of a way.’ “I don’t know if Beverley has told you about Mark’s acting. He was an amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an actor he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all that the local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving us a private performance, directed against a professional actress who had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth Norris look a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then join in the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy revenge! “It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark Ablett. “‘How, Cay, how?’ he said eagerly. “‘Well, I haven’t really thought it out,’ I protested. ‘It was just an idea.’ “He began to think it out for himself.