"What an extraordinary place!" exclaimed Miss Blake, much impressed with the narration. "One would think smugglers lived there--or people of that kind."
The boy's eyes--and intelligent eyes they were--went up to Miss Blake's. He did not particularly understand what a smuggler might be, but felt sure it could not apply to Mr. Throcton.
"Mr. Throcton was a rich gentleman that had always lived here," he said. "There warn't nothing wrong with him--only a bit crazy. For years afore he died, 'um, he'd never see nobody; and the house, mother said, were kept just like a prison."
Miss Blake, very curious, looked at the lock and tried to shake the gate. She might as well have tried to shake the air.
"Who lives in it now, Tom Pepp?"
"A young lady, 'um."
"A young lady?" echoed Miss Blake. "Who else?"
"Not nobody else," said the boy.
"Why, you don't mean to say a young lady lives alone there?"
"She do, 'um. She and a old servant or two."