He looked to right and left, as it seemed to me instinctively, and as though to assure himself that no one else was present, that no one overheard him. It was evident to me that there was somebody he feared.
Several times I tried tactfully to “draw” him, but to no purpose.
“I should like to look over the house again,” I said at last. “I know it well, for I stayed here often in days gone by, though I don’t recollect ever seeing you here. How long is it since Sir Charles stayed here?”
“Three years come Lady Day,” he answered.
“And has the house been empty ever since? Has it never been sub-let?”
“Never. Sir Charles never would sub-let it, though there were some who wanted it.”
“Well, I will look over it, I think,” I said, moving to rise. “I’m inclined to rent it myself; that’s really why I am here.”
He may, or may not, have believed the lie. Anyway, my suggestion filled him with alarm. He got up out of his chair.
“You can’t, you can’t,” he exclaimed, greatly perturbed. He pushed his skinny hand into his jacket-pocket, and I heard him clutch his bunch of keys. “The doors are all locked—all locked.”
“You have the keys; give them to me.”