The cab drew up and the man descended.
"An orkard place," he said, "with luggage. There's two cottages up there—'Sea-view' and 'Rose Mount.' The one you want is the last, on the right. Shall I carry yer bag, sir? The 'orse won't move."
"No—I'm not staying here," McTaggart hastily explained—"just going in to see some friends. I shall want you to wait—perhaps some time..." He glanced up the road as he spoke and saw that a little public house stood at the end of the empty street.
"You'd better go and have a drink. But keep an eye on my suit-case." He handed the smiling driver a shilling.
"Right, sir—thank ye. I'll be 'ere."
He took the coin, pocketed it, gazing up at the sky.
"Turning my money," he explained. "A new moon, sir—it brings luck."
"I hope so," said McTaggart. He felt oddly nervous now as he passed down the dusty path with its clipped hedge on either side.
A green door ended it, with a gaping crack, through which he peered and he saw a sun dried little garden where a few nasturtiums still straggled in a bed bordered with cockle shells.
He lifted the latch and walked in.