“It can hardly be very long,” observed Brampton, “for the Mills, to whom it belongs, only went away last week.”
“Really,” said Gimblet, “you interest me. Who are the Mills? Do you know them at all?”
“Most certainly I do. They are great friends of ours, and their having to go away like this is a sad loss to us. Arthur Mill is the son of an old acquaintance of mine—a manufacturer of glass—and is employed in his father’s business. His wife is a charming woman, and we are devoted to them both. It was only lately decided that he was to go abroad, to look after a branch of the business in Italy, and they had very little time to make arrangements about letting their house. They only left on Friday last, and it was a great surprise to us to hear on Monday that the house had been let.”
“Did you hear who had taken it?” inquired Gimblet.
“I think I did hear the man’s name, but I am afraid I have forgotten it. My wife saw a charwoman going in on Monday morning whom she often employs herself, so she ran in here, as she told me, to ask her what she was doing, as the house had been all cleaned up on Friday and Saturday after the Mills left. The charwoman said she had been sent in by the house agents to see if anything remained to be put in order, as the new tenant, or so she understood, wanted to go in at once. That is all we heard; but as no one has been seen or heard about the place since that day it looks as if they had changed their minds.”
“Thanks very much,” said Gimblet. “If you could tell me the name of the agents I think my best plan is to go and try to get the key from them, as it seems impossible to rouse anyone here.”
“Ennidge and Pring are the agents; in Sentinel Street, about ten minutes’ walk from here. You’ll have to be quick, or you won’t catch them. They’re sure to close at six.”
“I will go now,” said Gimblet, and he drew Higgs on one side. “Higgs,” he said, “keep an eye on the front of the house, and if anyone comes out and you fail to detain him, follow him, leaving Sir Gregory to watch the house. In the meantime, let him watch the back. I shall be back soon if I can get a taxi.”
He started off, Mr. Brampton accompanying him as far as his own door and pointing out the way to Sentinel Street. At the gate they glanced back at the shuttered first floor windows and the faded flowers on the balcony.
“Mrs. Mill would be terribly upset if she saw how her flowers are being neglected,” said Mr. Brampton. “She is so very fond of her garden, and is always watering and attending to her plants. A man is to come once a week, on Saturday mornings, to look after the garden and mow the lawn, and I shall tell him to insist on watering the balcony boxes. That’s your way now, up the street and bear to the left. Ah, there’s a taxi.”