“Didn’t you hear us trying to get in?” Mr. Ayling demanded.
“Sure,” the hunchback shrugged, “but I was busy fixin’ the bell that connects with the house. Anyhow, visitors ain’t wanted here.”
“So we observe,” said Mr. Ayling. “Where is your master?”
“Inside.”
“Then announce us,” the investigator ordered. “We’re here to ask a few questions.”
Winkey’s bird-like eyes blinked rapidly. He looked as if about to argue, then changed his mind.
“Go on to the house then,” he said crossly. “I’ll let ’em know by phone you’re comin’.”
The driveway curled through a large outer courtyard where a cluster of small and interesting buildings stood in various stages of ruin.
Near the gatehouse was the almonry, a shelter used in very early days to house visitors who sought free lodging.
Beyond were the ancient brewhouse, bakehouse, and granary. The latter two buildings now were little more than heaps of fallen brick. None of the structures was habitable.