I doubted the garden being the result of the Baron's own taste, nor was I mistaken, as I afterwards ascertained from the housekeeper. I strolled back towards the house, which I examined carefully over for the second time, then strolled out again into the garden, and so on till supper, which I took about nine o'clock.
Feeling rather lonely, I invited Mrs. Wharton, the housekeeper, to keep me company during my solitary meal. She sat down opposite to me as I commenced devouring my cold fowl and tongue, and helped myself to a glass of the Baron's ale. She was an agreeable old lady, and seemed to have known better days.
"This is a curious old place," I began. "Have you any rats here?"
"No, sir, none now," answered the matron.
"Nor bugs?"
"No."
"Nor fleas?"
"No, sir,—that is to say, only one," and her face assumed a solemn expression.
"Only one!" I exclaimed, laughing.
"Yes, sir," said she, gravely—"only the Phantom; only the Baron."