He raised his hand quickly to his forehead, as though in pain. It was gone in an instant, but she had been watching.
"Yes, I would," he answered fervently. "Sir Geoffrey was a wicked man, but he may have repented. He had his opportunities."
"How do you know that he was wicked?" she asked quickly.
"I heard of him abroad—many years ago. Will you excuse me, Miss Thurwell. I must hurry on and open the door for them."
He walked swiftly on, leaving her alone. When they reached their destination, he was there waiting for them.
It was a strangely situated and strangely built abode. A long low building of deep yellow stone, half hidden by various creepers, and inaccessible on the side from which they approached it save to foot passengers. From the bottom of the winding path which they had to climb it seemed to hang almost sheer over the cliff side. A thickly growing patch of stunted pine trees rising abruptly in the background literally overtopped the tiled roof. From the summit of this plantation to the sea was one abrupt precipice, thickly overgrown for the first hundred feet or so by pine trees growing out from the side of the cliff in strange huddled fashion, the haunt of sea birds and a few daring rabbits.
They passed in at the hand-gate, and toiled up the steep path, threading their way among a wilderness of overgrown box shrubs, long dank grass and strange weeds. Helen, with her eyes fixed upon an open window on the right wing of the cottage, fell a little behind. The others came to a halt before the open door.
Mr. Brown met them and preceded them along the passage.
"I think he had better be carried in here," he said, motioning toward the room on the left-hand side, the side remote from the sea. "I have brought a sofa."
They stood on the threshold and looked in. The room was absolutely unfurnished, and the shutters had only just been thrown back, letting in long level gleams of sunlight, which fell upon the bare floor and damp walls, from which the discolored paper was commencing to peel off. Long cobwebs hung from the ceiling, waving slowly backward and forward in the unaccustomed draught. Helen Thurwell, who had just joined the little group, with a curious light in her eyes, and a deep spot of color in her pale cheeks, looked around and shivered. Mr. Thurwell, with a landlord's instinct, began to wonder who was at fault, his agent or his tenant.