They enjoyed an intimate silence, despite the presence of Reverend Fludd, who slurped tea and ate cake with enthusiasm.

Presently, Lady Tor rang the table bell, and Nancy appeared.

“Do please check if Mr West has finished his nap and wishes to join us,” she instructed.

“West?” repeated Fludd, dabbing cake crumbs with a damp finger. “Ah yes – I should like to speak to him. I’m afraid, my dear, that you have been badly misled if you believe that fellow can rid you of your ghost. The man is a mere lay practitioner, and a foreigner to boot. Percy is a English spirit, and only an English exorcism will serve to banish him – the Rituale Romanum will be quite ineffectual, doubly so delivered by a Frenchman.”

“I believe that Mr West was Belgian,” noted Lady Tor.

Pfft, produced Fludd, and waved a hand dismissively as though the equivalency was obvious.

The Captain placed his cup carefully on its saucer.

“Was?” he enquired.

Lady Tor did not flinch as the piercing shriek reached them from an upper chamber.