CHAPTER XIX
It seemed to me that I should have to go to work cautiously in regard to the new scheme in my mind concerning The Croft. A policy of carefulness had grown up at Gloucester Place; for some time past accounts had been kept, accounts that had to balance or the expert young folk applied themselves to the figures, and ascertained the reason why. Mr. Hillier, as I knew, had been saving money since the loss of his wife (she, dear soul, never was able to acquire the useful trick) and once a man begins to hoard it is difficult to induce him to embark upon anything like adventure or risk. Also, I could not be sure to what extent their affection for the rooms in Gloucester Place might weigh; it was certain that the struggles and triumphs associated in their minds with Greenwich would count whenever a suggestion was offered of removal. Once, a casual reference had been made to the house in Tressillian Road, Brockley, where we had lived before going to Chislehurst; this idea appeared to be lacking in boldness. There was Katherine's little chap to be considered. We had the Park at hand, but I was fearful that as he grew up he might be playing with other children and—Well, I suppose, we people who have once lived in large houses remain snobs to the rest of our days.
I managed to find the auctioneer at his office in a comparatively leisurely mood, but he was a hustling sort of man, constantly looking at his watch and with the affectation of being over-crowded with engagements that deceives only the partially demented. He broke off more than once during our interview to ring people up on the telephone, and to impress me with the vastness of his business, and the importance of his dealings. The Croft, he admitted, was still unlet, but how long it would remain in this state of emptiness, he could not attempt to guarantee. Several folk were endeavouring to obtain it, and the matter was one of rent, and of rent only.
"You're wrong," he declared, when I mentioned that large houses were not now in great demand. "Absolutely off the main line. Never made a bigger mistake in the whole course of your existence. Try to put that idea out of your head, my dear madam, as soon as ever you can. By-the-bye, I like to know who I am dealing with. Give me your name, and your full address."
I furnished him with the London Street address. It was no part of my scheme to give him the chance of calling at Gloucester Place, and blurting out information there.
"Good!" he said briskly. "I take it you are a lady of some property."
"You are safe in assuming that."
"My method," he went on, "is to be perfectly frank and straightforward. What I mean is, as frank and straightforward as business will permit. Now I don't mind telling you that I have two strong offers for the house, and at any moment one of these may decide to clinch the bargain."
"Your several, then, comes down to a couple."