‘The roof leaks, perhaps?’
‘Deary me, no. You won’t find a spot of damp, look where you may.’
‘Then there’s been a fever, or some infectious disorder in the house?’
‘A fever, sir? Why, the place has been empty these six months. The last tenants left at Christmas.’
‘Empty for six months!’ I exclaimed. ‘How long is it, then, since the gentleman who built it died?’
‘Old Mr Bennett, sir? He’s been dead a matter of fifteen years or more.’
‘Indeed! Then why don’t the owners of the place sell it, instead of letting it stand vacant?’ thought I to myself.
But I did not say so to the old woman, who was looking up in my face, as though anxious to learn what my decision would be.
‘No vermin, I hope?’ I suggested, as a last resource. ‘You are not troubled with rats or mice at night, are you?’
‘Oh, I don’t sleep here at night, sir, thank heaven!’ she answered in a manner which appeared to me unnecessarily energetic. ‘I am only employed by day to air the house, and show it to strangers. I go home to my own people at night.’