“Good enough,” Anthony agreed.
“I should say so.” He took another pull at his tankard. “Been having some excitement down here, landlord, haven’t you? Lady fell over a cliff, or something?”
“Mrs. Vane, sir? Yes. Very sad business, very sad indeed. A wonderful nice lady she was too, they say, though I can’t say as how I knew ’er meself. A bit of a stranger in these parts, she was, you see. ’Adn’t been married to the doctor more nor five years.”
“The doctor? Her husband is a doctor, is he?”
“Well, in a manner o’ speaking he is. He’s always called Dr. Vane, though he don’t do no doctoring. Plenty o’ money he’s got now and always ’as ’ad since he settled ’ere twenty or more years ago, but a doctor he was once, they do say, an’ Dr. Vane he’s always called.”
“I see. And where does he live? Near here?”
“A matter of a mile or so out Sandsea way; big ’ouse standin’ in its own grounds back from the cliffs. You couldn’t miss it. Very lonely, like. You might take a stroll out there and see it if you’ve got nothing to do.”
“By Jove, yes, we might, mightn’t we, Anthony?”
“I should think so,” said Anthony cautiously.
“But first of all about these rooms. How many have you got vacant, landlord?”