"Where are you going to work this morning?" I asked, when we had trudged
on some distance.
"Just off the road to the left there, at the edge of the wood. Not very
far from the house of the mysterious stranger." She glanced at me
mischievously as she made this reply, and chuckled with delight when I
rose at the bait.
"What house do you mean?" I inquired.
"Ha!" she exclaimed, "the investigator of mysteries is aroused. He
saith, 'Ha! ha!' amidst the trumpets; he smelleth the battle afar off."
"Explain instantly," I commanded, "or I drop your sketch-block into the
very next puddle."
"You terrify me," said she. "But I will explain, only there isn't any
mystery except to the bucolic mind. The house is called Lavender
Cottage, and it stands alone in the fields behind the wood. A fortnight
ago it was let furnished to a stranger named Whitelock, who has taken it
for the purpose of studying the botany of the district; and the only
really mysterious thing about him is that no one has seen him. All
arrangements with the house-agent were made by letter, and, as far as I
can make out, none of the local tradespeople supply him, so he must get
his things from a distance--even his bread, which really is rather odd.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108