The Strange Disappearance of Mr. Jeremiah Dance
"Twenty pounds a year for a twelve-roomed house with large front lawn, good stabling and big kitchen gardens. That sounds all right," I commented. "But why so cheap?"
"Well," the advertiser—Mr. Baldwin by name, a short, stout gentleman, with keen, glittering eyes—replied, "Well, you see, it's a bit of a distance from the town, and—er—most people prefer being nearer—like neighbours and all that sort of thing."
"Like neighbours!" I exclaimed. "I don't. I've just seen about enough of them. Drains all right?"
"Oh, yes! Perfect."
"Water?"
"Excellent."
"Everything in good condition?"
"First rate."
"Loneliness the only thing people object to?"