"You don't mean to say that you have never heard of the Sylph?"
Inglis asked this question in a tone of voice which was peculiar.
"My dear fellow, I'm not a riverain authority. I am not acquainted with every houseboat between Richmond and Oxford. It was only at your special recommendation that I took the Water Lily!"
"Excuse me, Millen, I advised a houseboat. I didn't specify the Water Lily!"
"But," asked my wife, "what was the matter with the Sylph that she should so mysteriously have become the Water Lily?"
Inglis fenced with this question in a manner which seemed to suggest a state of mental confusion.
"Of course, Millen, I know that that sort of thing would not have the slightest influence on you. It is only people of a very different sort who would allow it to have any effect on them. Then, after all, I may be wrong. And, in any case, I don't see that it matters."
"Mr. Inglis, are you suggesting that the Sylph was haunted?"
"Haunted!" Inglis started "I never dropped a hint about its being haunted. So far as I remember I never heard a word of anything of the kind." Violet placed her knife and fork together on her plate. She folded her hands upon her lap.
"Mr. Inglis, there is a mystery. Will you this mystery unfold?"
"Didn't you really ever hear about the Sylph—two years ago?"
"Two years ago we were out of England."
