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 down to the village of Woodham—a few red-roofed cottages, and the grey tower of a church showing above the green. “Well, now,” said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, “what about Cayley?” “How do you mean, what about him?” “I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You were wonderful. Now let’s have Cayley’s character. Cayley from within.” Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a blooming novelist. “Besides,” he added, “Mark’s easy. Cayley’s one of these heavy, quiet people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives himself away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn’t he?” “Some women like that type of ugliness.” “Yes, that’s true. Between ourselves, I think there’s one here who does. Rather a pretty girl at Jallands”—he waved his left hand—“down that way.” “What’s Jallands?” “Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called Jalland, but now it’s a country cottage belonging to a widow called Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss Norbury—the girl—has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn’t much time for that sort of thing.” “What sort of thing?” “Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she’s been to any theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do.” “Mark kept him busy?” “Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing something for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And, funnily enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark.” “He was fond of him?” “Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He’d sized Mark up, of course—his vanity, his self-importance, his amateurishness and all the rest of it—but he liked looking after him. And he knew how to manage him.” “Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests—you and Miss Norris and all of them?” “Just polite and rather silent, you know. Keeping himself to himself. We didn’t see so very much of him, except at meals. We were here to enjoy ourselves, and—well, _he_ wasn’t.” “He wasn’t there when the ghost walked?” “No. I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house. I expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that girls will be girls....—Hallo, here we are.”