KIRKSTONE HALL
The day following his conversation with the little solicitor, Gebb left Waterloo Station for Norminster in Hampshire, and arrived at that quaint little town about midday. On making inquiries he learned that Kirkstone Hall was a mile distant, situate amid some woods near the banks of the Avon.
As it was a fine morning, and Gebb was fond of walking, he used his own legs to reach his destination; and after a pleasant stroll through rural lanes, and across flowering meadows, he reached a pair of finely wrought iron gates which stood wide open. The gates themselves were covered with red rust, the lodge beside them was shut up, and the stately avenue, which curved upward between noble oak trees, was overgrown with grass. Even on the threshold, as it were, of the estate, Gebb espied the ruinous economy of the late Miss Gilmar.
On coming in sight of the Hall, he found the hand of Time still more heavily laid upon the works of man. It was a quaint Jacobean building of red brick, set upon a slight rise, and surrounded by stone terraces. From the main body two wings spread to right and left, but the windows of these were all closely shuttered. The hall door was also closed, and--so far as Gebb could see--no smoke curled from the stacks of chimneys. The terraces were grass-grown, the gardens untended and in disorder, and the whole place had a silent, melancholy aspect as though the soul of the house had departed. It was the palace of the Sleeping Beauty, enchanted and spell-bound, and it seemed as though there were a curse on the place.
"And no wonder!" said Gebb, looking at the gaunt mansion, grim even in the sunshine, "seeing the kind of people who lived in it, and the crimes they committed."
He ascended the steps and rang the bell, but before the sound had died away he was aware of a brisk step approaching, and turned to see a young lady walking along the terrace on the right.
She was tall and dark, with fine eyes and a handsome face. Her figure was shown to perfection by the trim, tailor-made costume which she wore. In her hand she carried a silver-headed cane, and walked smartly towards the detective, with the air of a woman fully alive to the importance of time. When she spoke, her voice was deep and full, but the matter of her speech was remarkably business-like. On the whole Gebb judged Miss Edith Wedderburn--for he guessed that this was the young lady referred to by Prain--to be a clever, plain-spoken woman, with few of the weaknesses of her sex to hamper what she conceived to be her duty.
"Good day!" said the lady, with a comprehensive glance. "May I ask what you want?"
"I wish to see Miss Wedderburn."
"Well, you see her now. I am Miss Wedderburn. Can I do anything for you?"