“Then he would scarcely require this?”
“I am afraid not.” It was obvious that the situation was not disposed of. “But he seems to have so little furniture there and to live so solitarily,” she explained, “that we have even wondered whether he might not be there merely as a sort of caretaker.”
“And you have never heard where he came from or who he is?”
“Only what the milkman told my servant—our chief source of local information, Mr Carrados. He declares that the man used to be the butler at a large house that stood here formerly, Fountain Court, and that his name is neither Johns nor Jones. But very likely it is all a mistake.”
“If not, he is certainly attached to the soil,” was her visitor’s rejoinder. “And, apropos of that, will you show me over your garden before I go, Mrs Bellmark?”
“With pleasure,” she assented, rising also. “I will ring now and then I can offer you tea when we have been round. That is, if you——?”
“Thank you, I do,” he replied. “And would you allow my man to go through into the garden—in case I require him?”
“Oh, certainly. You must tell me just what you want without thinking it necessary to ask permission, Mr Carrados,” she said, with a pretty air of protection. “Shall Amy take a message?”
He acquiesced and turned to the servant who had appeared in response to the bell.
“Will you go to the car and tell my man—Parkinson—that I require him here. Say that he can bring his book; he will understand.”