"Them?" exclaimed Mrs. Machin. "What else has he bought?"
"I expect he 's bought all the five—this and the four below, as far as Downes's. I expect you 'll find that the other four have had notices just like these. You know all this row used to belong to the Wilbrahams. You surely must remember that, mother?"
"Is he one of the Wilbrahams of Hillport, then?"
"Yes, of course he is."
"I thought the last of 'em was Cecil, and when he 'd beggared himself here he went to Australia and died of drink. That's what I always heard. We always used to say as there was n't a Wilbraham left."
"He did go to Australia, but he did n't die of drink. He disappeared, and when he 'd made a fortune he turned up again in Sydney, so it seems. I heard he 's thinking of coming back here to settle. Anyhow, he 's buying up a lot of the Wilbraham property. I should have thought you 'd have heard of it. Why, lots of people have been talking about it."
"Well," said Mrs. Machin, "I don't like it."
She objected to a law which permitted a landlord to sell a house over the head of a tenant who had occupied it for more than thirty years. In the course of the morning she discovered that Denry was right—the other tenants had received notices exactly similar to hers.
Two days later Denry arrived home for tea with a most surprising article of news. Mr. Cecil Wilbraham had been down to Bursley from London, and had visited him, Denry. Mr. Cecil Wilbraham's local information was evidently quite out of date, for he had imagined Denry to be a rent-collector and estate agent, whereas the fact was that Denry had abandoned this minor vocation years ago. His desire had been that Denry should collect his rents and watch over his growing interests in the district.
"So what did you tell him?" asked Mrs. Machin.