Willis explained that he had brought up a cold chicken and some accessories, also that Mr. Clithero would find that there were bottles of good wine in the cellar; if he could do with these.
Mostyn declared that he could do with these quite well. In fact, he would need nothing else that night, and on the next day he could have a long chat with Mrs. Willis and make all the necessary arrangements.
After this the bedrooms were explored, to reach which it was necessary to pass along the gallery that skirted the hall. Of these only a couple were furnished, all the other rooms being in a state of deplorable decay.
"Mr. Royce was always going to furnish the house," Willis explained apologetically, "but when he gave up racing he didn't seem to care to come down any more. He took the Grange because it is near the training stables, you know, sir. William Treves has a big place just outside Partinborough."
The beds were made in both rooms; and Willis explained that his wife had seen to this when she heard that the Grange had passed into other hands, and would probably be shortly occupied. "She has tidied up the place as well as she could," he added. "I hope you'll be all right and comfortable, sir."
Mostyn glanced round the large airy room which he had selected, and told himself that there was every prospect of his comfort. The room, indeed, had not the appearance of having been long unoccupied, and Mostyn noticed, somewhat to his surprise, that the attentive Willis—or could it have been Mrs. Willis?—had even been thoughtful enough to fill the vases here, as in the drawing-room, with rich and fresh rose-blooms.
"It's awfully nice to have these flowers," he commented; "I must really congratulate you, Willis, upon having arranged things so comfortably for me."
A tinge of colour came into the gardener's sallow face, and he turned away, as Mostyn thought, a little nervously.
"You're very good, sir," was all he said.
Mostyn enjoyed his dinner, impromptu meal though it was, nor did he neglect an excellent bottle of claret that Willis produced from the cellar. He felt quite contented and happy, nor had he any sensation of loneliness when, a little later, he heard the dog-cart pass the front door and knew that Willis had taken his departure. Mostyn had told the gardener that there was no need either for him or for his wife to return that night. Their cottage, he had learnt, lay within the little park by which Partinborough Grange was surrounded, some five or six minutes' walk from the house.