“Of course: I have not told you that, and I could not explain it to uncle,” she said. “I am anxious not to do anything to put him out because I have a hope—rather a faint one, certainly—that the man may be willing to take over this house.”
It would be incorrect to say that Carrados pricked up his ears—if that curious phenomenon has any physical manifestation—for the sympathetic expression of his face did not vary a fraction. But into his mind there came a gleam such as might inspire a patient digger who sees the first speck of gold that justifies his faith in an unlikely claim.
“Oh,” he said, quite conversationally, “is there a chance of that?”
“He undoubtedly did want it. It is very curious in a way. A few weeks ago, before we were really settled, he came one afternoon, saying he had heard that this house was to be let. Of course I told him that he was too late, that we had already taken it for three years.”
“You were the first tenants?”
“Yes. The house was scarcely ready when we signed the agreement. Then this Mr Johns, or Jones—I am not sure which he said—went on in a rather extraordinary way to persuade me to sublet it to him. He said that the house was dear and I could get plenty, more convenient, at less rent, and it was unhealthy, and the drains were bad, and that we should be pestered by tramps and it was just the sort of house that burglars picked on, only he had taken a sort of fancy to it and he would give me a fifty-pound premium for the term.”
“Did he explain the motive for this rather eccentric partiality?”
“I don’t imagine that he did. He repeated several times that he was a queer old fellow with his whims and fancies and that they often cost him dear.”
“I think we all know that sort of old fellow,” said Carrados. “It must have been rather entertaining for you, Mrs Bellmark.”
“Yes, I suppose it was,” she admitted. “The next thing we knew of him was that he had taken the other house as soon as it was finished.”