One long legal conversation with Owen Hood did indeed put him in possession of the legal outline of certain matters, which might be said to throw a light on some parts of the strange letter, and which might in time even be made to throw a light on the rest. White was the vicar of a parish lying deep in the western parts of Somersetshire, where the principal landowner was a certain Lord Arlington. And in this case there had been a quarrel between the squire and the parson, of a more revolutionary sort than is common in the case of parsons. The clergyman intensely resented that irony or anomaly which has caused so much discontent among tenants in Ireland and throughout the world; the fact that improvements or constructive work actually done by the tenant only pass into the possession of the landlord. He had considerably improved a house that he himself rented from the squire, but in some kind of crisis of defiance or renunciation, he had quitted this more official residence bag and baggage, and built himself a sort of wooden lodge or bungalow on a small hill or mound that rose amid woods on the extreme edge of the same grounds. This quarrel about the claim of the tenant to his own work was evidently the meaning of certain phrases in the letter—such as the timber coming from the other end of the county, the sort of work being a man’s own affair, and the general allusion to somebody’s flunkeys or sycophants who attempted to boycott the discontented tenant. But it was not quite clear whether the allusions to a new arrangement, and how it worked, referred to the bungalow or to the other and more elusive mystery of the presence of Snowdrop.
One phrase in the letter he found to have been repeated in many places and to many persons without becoming altogether clear in the process. It was the sentence that ran: “I was afraid at first it would really be an encumbrance, as you know it’s always supposed to be.� Both Colonel Crane and Owen Hood, and also several other persons whom he met later in his investigations, were agreed in saying that Mr. White had used some expression indicating that he had entangled himself with something troublesome or at least useless; something that he did not want. None of them could remember the exact words he had used; but all could state in general terms that it referred to some sort of negative nuisance or barren responsibility. This could hardly refer to Snowdrop, of whom he always wrote in terms of tenderness as if she were a baby or a kitten. It seemed hard to believe it could refer to the house he had built entirely to suit himself. It seemed as if there must be some third thing in his muddled existence, which loomed vaguely in the background through the vapour of his confused correspondence.
Colonel Crane snapped his fingers with a mild irritation in trying to recall a trifle. “He said it was a—you know, I’ve forgotten the word—a botheration or embarrassment. But then he’s always in a state of botheration and embarrassment. I didn’t tell you, by the way, that I had a letter from him too. Came the day after I heard yours. Shorter, and perhaps a little plainer.� And he handed the letter to Hood, who read it out slowly:
“‘I never knew the old British populace, here in Avalon itself, could be so broken down by squires and sneaking lawyers. Nobody dared help me move my house again; said it was illegal and they were afraid of the police. But Snowdrop helped, and we carted it all away in two or three journeys; took it right clean off the old fool’s land altogether this time. I fancy the old fool will have to admit there are things in this world he wasn’t prepared to believe in.’�
“But look here,� began Hood as if impulsively, and then stopped and spoke more slowly and carefully. “I don’t understand this; I think it’s extremely odd. I don’t mean odd for an ordinary person, but odd for an odd person; odd for this odd person. I know White better than either of you can, and I can tell you that, though he tells a tale anyhow, the tale is always true. He’s rather precise and pedantic when you do come to the facts; these litigious quarrelsome people often are. He would do extraordinary things, but he wouldn’t make them out more extraordinary than they were. I mean he’s the sort of man who might break all the squire’s windows, but he wouldn’t say he’d broken six when he’d broken five. I’ve always found when I’d got to the meaning of those mad letters that it was quite true. But how can this be true? How could Snowdrop, whatever she is, have moved a whole house, or old White either?�
“I suppose you know what I think,� said Pierce. “I told you that Snowdrop, whatever else she is, is invisible. I’m certain your friend has gone Spiritualist, and Snowdrop is the name of a spirit, or a control, or whatever they call it. The spirit would say, of course, that it was mere child’s play to throw the house from one end of the county to the other. But if this unfortunate gentleman believes himself to have been thrown, house and all, in that fashion, I’m very much afraid he’s begun really to suffer from delusions.�
The faces of the two older men looked suddenly much older, perhaps for the first time they looked old. The young man seeing their dolorous expression was warmed and fired to speak quickly.
“Look here,� he said hastily, “I’ll go down there myself and find out what I can for you. I’ll go this afternoon.�
“Train journey takes ages,� said the Colonel, shaking his head. “Other end of nowhere. Told me yourself you had an appointment at the Air Ministry to-morrow.�
“Be there in no time,� replied Pierce cheerfully. “I’ll fly down.�