“And where is it?”
“It’s called Gateway House—about a mile along the road from the depot.”
Steingall, inclined at first to doubt the expediency of gossip with the girl, now pricked up his ears.
“Who lives in Gateway House?” he asked.
“No one that I know of at the moment,” she answered. “It used to belong to a mad doctor. I don’t mean a doctor who was mad, but——”
“No matter about his sanity. Is he dead?”
“No, in prison. There was a trial two years ago.”
“Oh! I remember the affair. A patient was beaten to death. So the house is empty?”
“It is, unless some one has rented it recently. I was taken through the place months ago. The rooms are all right, and it has beautiful grounds, but the windows frightened me. They were closely barred with iron, and the doors were covered with locks and chains. There were some old beds there, too, with straps on them. Oh, I quite shivered!”
“After we have eaten will you let us drive you in that direction in my car?” said Carshaw.