the servant, and letting you into the house. What
happened next?"

"She took me into a room, which I suppose was her own room. She made
signs, offering me tea. It was done in the strangest way--without the
least appearance of kindness. After what you have just said to me, I
think I can in some degree interpret what was going on in her mind.
I believe she felt a hard-hearted interest in seeing a woman whom she
supposed to be as unfortunate as she had once been herself. I declined
taking any tea, and tried to return to the subject of what I wanted in
the house. She paid no heed to me. She pointed round the room; and then
took me to a window, and pointed round the garden--and then made a sign
indicating herself. 'My house; and my garden'--that was what she meant.
There were four men in the garden--and Geoffrey Delamayn was one of
them. I made another attempt to tell her that I wanted to speak to him.
But, no! She had her own idea in her mind. After beckoning to me to
leave the window, she led the way to the fire-place, and showed me a
sheet of paper with writing on it, framed and placed under a glass, and
hung on the wall. She seemed, I thought, to feel some kind of pride in
her framed manuscript. At any rate, she insisted on my reading it. It
was an extract from a will."

"The will under which she had inherited the house?"

"Yes. Her brother's will. It said, that he regretted, on his death-bed,
his estrangement from his only sister, dating from the time when she had
married in defiance of his wishes and against his advice. As a proof
of his sincere desire to be reconciled with her, before he died, and as
some compensation for the sufferings that she had endured at the hands
of her deceased husband, he left her an income of two hundred pounds a
year, together with the use of his house and garden, for her lifetime.
That, as well as I remember, was the substance of what it said."

"Creditable to her brother, and creditable to herself," said Sir
Patrick. "Taking her odd character into consideration, I understand her
liking it to be seen. What puzzles me, is her letting lodgings with an
income of her own to live on."

"That was the very question which I put to her myself. I was obliged
to be cautious, and to begin by asking about the lodgers first--the men
being still visible out in the garden, to excuse the inquiry. The rooms
to let in the house had (as I understood her) been taken by a person
acting for Geoffrey Delamay