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Both young men. One Cavalier—that would be Knagg—and one of Cromwell’s Ironsides. They are at daggers drawn over—that!” he said, pointing to a table to the left of the grate.
    They all went forward to examine the cause of the mischief. A yellow jerkin and a round helmet sat on a table, along with an assortment of old pistols.
    “Now that is odd!” Lewis said. “The servants complain of finding the little yellow jacket and the helmet on the floor a dozen times a month.”
    Wainwright explained, “The Royalist ghost does not want it on that table. He would prefer to have those reminders of Cromwell out of the room entirely or at least not on display.”
    “They are a part of the history of Keefer Hall,” Merton said. “I could not allow them to be removed.”
    “At least move them to a separate table,” Wainwright said. “You will have no peace until you do.”
    Lewis closed his eyes and said, “I get a sense that Knagg is sore that Cromwell’s relics are mixed up with the Royalist ones.” From beneath his eyelids he peered at Wainwright for confirmation.
    “That is the obvious answer,” Wainwright agreed. “Common sense comes into it, too.”
    “I am surprised to hear it,” Merton said.
    “Let us not move them yet,” Wainwright continued. “It might make the ghosts depart, and I would like a word with them before that happens.”
    Merton looked at him, astonishment elevated to irony. “You need not fear I intend to change anything in my house to suit a ghost, Mr. Wainwright. And now that you have met all the spectral guests of Keefer Hall, perhaps you would like a bite of meat before retiring.”
    “I shall join you in the saloon shortly, milord. I would just like a word with Charles.”
    Lewis said, “Eh? Our butler’s name is Bagot.”
    “I refer to your Parliamentary ghost and his friend, the Cavalier. They are related—by blood, I mean. Brothers or stepbrothers or cousins. Not brothers-in-law. It is sad to have families at odds. I shall try to arrange a reconciliation.”
    Lewis weighed Charity’s charms against her papa’s and opted for the latter. “I shall stay and give you a hand, sir.”
    “Good luck,” Merton said. He offered his arm to Charity and said, “Would you care to join me in the Blue Saloon, ma’am? There is a matter I should like to discuss with you.”
    She felt a quiver of apprehension. Surely he was not going to ask them to leave! That would be a new low in Papa’s career. And Lady Merton would not come to their rescue as Papa had not found a ghost in her bedchamber. She knew perfectly well that Merton thought her papa a fraud, so he could not want to discuss ghosts. But no, they would not be leaving yet. Papa had told her to bring her new evening frock and he was seldom mistaken about such things.
     

Chapter Three
     
    The servants were preparing tea when Charity and Lord Merton entered the Blue Saloon. Two young girls were placing a large silver tray that held the tea set, dishes, sandwiches, and a plate of sweets on the sofa table before the grate. Merton spoke idly of inconsequential matters until they had left, inquiring if Miss Wainwright had had a pleasant trip and such things.
    As soon as the servants disappeared, his polite smile faded and he said frankly, “Miss Wainwright, I have made no secret of the fact that I think this visit an exercise in futility. That is not to say, however, that I fail to realize something is bothering Mama. She has not been herself lately. I hope that you and your papa can assist her.”
    “We shall do what we can, milord,” she replied, with more curiosity than offense. “How do you think we can be of help if her problem is not of a supernatural order?”
    He batted his hand impatiently. “There is no such thing as a supernatural order—barring religion, I mean,” he added.
    “Because you have not observed any supernatural phenomena does not necessarily mean they do not exist,” she pointed out politely.
    “No