er cleaned."

"And nobody has been over it with a view to renting it?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

"There's never been anybody going in or out--eh?"

"Well, I've never seen them, sir," was the man's reply.

"But there have been people coming and going, have there not?"

The man hesitated for a moment, apparently slightly puzzled at my
question.

"Well, sir, to tell the truth, there's been a very funny story about
lately. It is said that some of the old woman's relatives have
returned, and they've been seen going in and out--but always in the
middle of the night."

"What sort of people?" I asked quickly.

"Oh! two men and a woman--so they say. But of course I've never seen
anybody. I've asked the constables on night duty, and they've never
seen any one, or they would, no doubt, have reported it."

"Then who has seen them?"

"I really don't know. I heard the gossip over in the Royal Oak. How it
originated, or whether it had any foundation in fact, I can't find
out."

"I see the board has fallen down."

"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,