"Him they call Doctor Greefe."
"Oh," said I, "you call him the black doctor. Is he a negro?"
"He's black," was the reply, "black he is although his hair is white. Oh, ah, there's black blood in him all right."
"And what has he to do with the man-traps in the Park?"
"Has 'em put there—has 'em put there, he does."
"But what for? Surely the property belongs not to Dr. Greefe but to Lady Coverly."
"Belongs to her! Her own soul don't belong to her!"
I was conscious of a growing excitement. I thought that I was about to learn the very fact which I was seeking, and accordingly:
"What is the age of Lady Burnham Coverly?" I asked.
"Lady Burnham? Well, let me see; she were not more'n about twenty-five, I reckon, when Sir Burnham first brought her to the Park. Them was the days, them was. These parts 'as changed cruel since I was a young man. Then it was soon after as Sir Burnham went off to Egypt for government, and eleven years afore he come back again."