“It is strange that I never mentioned it,” I said. “But it has had no tenant for years.”
“Unless I am greatly mistaken, it will have one before long,” rejoined Netta, with her most definite air. “It looks as if it were just waiting for us—and had been marked ‘reserved.’”
“Then you have been over it?”
“No, I could not get in, the doors are all bolted, and there seems to be no chokedar. I wandered round the verandahs, and took stock of the size and proportions—it stands in an imposing compound. There are the ruins at the back, mixed up with the remains of a garden—old guava trees, lemon trees, a vine, and a well. There is a capital place at one side for two Badminton courts, and I have mentally laid out a rose-garden in front of the portico.”
“How quickly your mind travels!”
“Everything must travel quickly in these days,” she retorted. “We all have to put on the pace. Just as I was leaving, I met a venerable coolie person, who informed me that John Mahomed had the keys, so I despatched him to bring them at once, and promised a rupee for his trouble. Now do, like a good soul, let us have tea, and start off immediately after to inspect my treasure-trove!”
“I can promise you a cup of tea in five minutes,” I replied, “but I am not so certain of your treasure-trove.”
“I am. I generally can tell what suits me at first sight. The only thing I am afraid of is the rent. Still, in Tommy’s position one must not consider that. He is obliged to live in a suitable style.”
“The Watsons’ house has often had a staff-tenant. I believe it would answer all your requirements.”
“Too near the road, and too near the General,” she objected, with a gesture of impatience. “Ah, here comes tea at last!”