“Yes, that’s been down for a couple of months or more—blown down by the wind, I suppose.”
“You haven’t heard cabs stopping outside at night, for instance?”
“No, sir. I sleep at the back, and should therefore not hear.”
I could see that he was a little uncertain as to the reason of my inquiries, therefore I made an excuse that having been struck by the appearance of the house so long neglected my curiosity had been aroused.
“You’ve never heard of cabs stopping there at night?” I asked, a few moments later.
“Well, this morning the cook, who sleeps upstairs in front, funnily enough, told me a curious story of how in the night a taxi stopped and a gentleman got out and entered the house. A few minutes later another man came forth from the house, paid the taxi-driver, and he moved off. But,” laughed the man-servant, “I fancy cook had been dreaming. I’m going to ask the constable when he comes on duty to-night if he saw any strangers here.”
I smiled. The man whom the cook saw had evidently been myself.
Then, after a further chat, I pressed half-a-crown into his ready palm and left.
My next visit was to the estate agents in Pall Mall, where, presenting myself as a possible tenant, the clerk at whose table I had taken a seat said—
“Well, sir, Althorp House is in such a bad, neglected state that we do not now-a-days send clients to view it. Old Mrs. Carpenter died some thirteen years ago, and according to her will the place had to be left undisturbed, and let furnished. The solicitors placed it in our hands, but the property until the twenty years have elapsed, is quite untenantable. The whole place has now gone to rack and ruin. We have a number of other furnished houses which I will be most delighted to give you orders to view.”