“Rather an awkward time to call,” she remarked, swinging open the car door, “but Seth probably won’t mind.”
As the girls walked toward the tower entrance, they noticed that the grounds surrounding the building were not as neat as when last they had viewed them. The shrubs were untrimmed, the lawn choked with weeds, and old newspapers had matted against the hedge.
“I wonder if Mr. McGuire has been well?” Penny commented, knocking on the tower door. “He always took pride in looking after the yard.”
“At least he seems to be up and around,” Louise returned in a low tone. “I can hear someone moving about inside.”
The girls waited expectantly for the door to open. When there was no response to their knock, Penny tried again.
“Who’s there?” called a loud and not very friendly voice.
Penny knew that it was not Old Seth who spoke, for the caretaker’s high-pitched tones were unmistakable.
“We came to see Mr. McGuire,” she called through the panel.
The door swung back and the girls found themselves facing a stout, red-faced man of perhaps forty, who wore a soiled suede jacket and unpressed corduroy trousers.
“McGuire’s not here any more,” he informed curtly. “You’ll probably find him at his farm.”