It was nearly one o'clock, and the sun was high, as I walked beneath
the dingy brick walls which separate each short garden from the
pavement. In some gardens were stunted trees, blackened by the London
smoke, while the houses were mostly large and comfortable, for it is
still considered a "genteel," if somewhat decayed neighbourhood.
Before that house of horror I paused for a moment. The dingy blinds of
yellow holland were drawn at each of the soot-grimed windows,
blackened by age and dirt. The garden was weedy and neglected, for the
grass grew high on the patch of lawn, and the dead leaves of the
tulips and daffodils of spring had not been removed.
The whole place presented a sadly neglected, sorry appearance--a state
of uncared-for disorder which, in the darkness of night, I had, of
course, not noticed.
As I looked within the garden I saw lying behind the wall an old
weather-beaten notice-board which bore the words "To be let,
Furnished," and giving the name of a well-known firm of estate agents
in Pall Mall.
The house next door was smart and well kept, therefore I resolved to
make inquiry there.
Of the tall, thin, old man-servant who answered my ring, I inquired
the name of the occupant of Althorp House.
"Well, sir," he replied, "there hasn't been an occupant since I've
been in service here, and that's ten years last March. An old lady
lived there, I've heard--a rather eccentric old lady. They've tried to
let it furnished, but nobody has taken it. It is said that the old
lady left instructions in her will that the furniture was to be left
just as it was for twenty years after her death. I expect the place
must be fine and dirty! An old woman goes there once every six weeks
or so, I believe, just to open the doors and let in a little air. But
it's never 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."