“Well, it’s possible. There’s no pretending that it will be easy to let now—servants and all that, you know. If you like the place after you’ve seen it, I should advise you to make an offer. Shall I write you out an order?”
“If you please.”
A quarter of an hour later I was at the lodge of the Mill House. In answer to my knock, the door flew open and a tall middle-aged woman literally bounced out.
“Nobody can go into the house, do you hear that? Fairly sick of you reporters, I am. Sir Eustace’s orders are——”
“I understood the house was to let,” I said freezingly, holding out my order. “Of course, if it’s already taken——”
“Oh, I’m sure I beg your pardon, miss. I’ve been fairly pestered with these newspaper people. Not a minute’s peace. No, the house isn’t let—nor likely to be now.”
“Are the drains wrong?” I asked in an anxious whisper.
“Oh, Lord, miss, the drains is all right! But surely you’ve heard about that foreign lady as was done to death here?”
“I believe I did read something about it in the papers,” I said carelessly.
My indifference piqued the good woman. If I had betrayed any interest, she would probably have closed up like an oyster. As it was, she positively bridled.