Antoinette's spoon tinkled in the saucer of the tea-cup she was holding
and her face went white. Brellier shifted his eyes. A sort of tension had
settled suddenly over the pleasant room.

"I--well, to tell you the truth, I can't explain 'em myself!" Brellier
said at last, clearing his throat with signs of genuine nervousness.
"They seem to be inexplicable. I have seen them--yes, many, many
times. And so has 'Toinette, but the stories afloat about them are
rather--unpleasant, and like a wise man I have kept myself free of
investigation. I do hope you'll do the same, Sir Nigel. One never knows,
and although one cannot always believe the silly things which the
villagers prattle about, it is as well to be on the safe side. As you
say, these things sometimes lack a rational explanation. I should be
sorry to think you were likely to run into any unnecessary danger." He
bent his head and Merriton could see that his fingers twitched.

"Borkins actually told me stories of people who had disappeared in a
mysterious manner and were never found again," he remarked casually.

Brellier shrugged his shoulders. He spread out his hands.

"Among the uneducated--what would you? But it is so, even since I myself
have been in residence at Withersby Hall--something like three and a half
years--there have been several mysterious disappearances, Sir Nigel, and
all directly traceable to a foolhardy desire to investigate these
phenomena. For myself, I leave well enough alone. I trust you are going
to do likewise?"

His eyes searched Merriton's face anxiously. There was a worried furrow
between his brows.