"He too inquired of the local inhabitants where Windward House might be situated, and received the same answer. They either did not know, or would not tell him."
"Are you making this up? Have you received instructions from people answering to the names of Hunter, Mudge, Dyer, Blisland, Kezia, Brock, to humbug me?" cried George.
"Certainly not, sir," said the agent sharply.
"Then I'm confounded! I don't believe in magic, ghosts, witches, evil eye, Aladdin's lamp, or pixies. Have you ever heard of such a thing in your life? Have you ever known a fine, big, well built, modern residence to vanish off the face of the earth, together with the ground it stood on, and the garden around it? Do you believe such a thing is possible? Because, if you do believe it, I am ruined."
And having thus spoken George wiped away the most genuine moisture that had ever dimmed his vision.
"I cannot offer any explanation, Mr. Drake, but it's certain your house has disappeared. Don't you think the best thing you can do is to go there yourself and find out what really has happened?"
"I won't go near the place," cried George. "I wouldn't be seen in it. I—I might disappear too."
"Then will you put the matter into the hands of the police?"
"I'll have nothing to do with them either," declared George.
"Shall I go myself and make inquiries of the vicar or some other reliable person?"