was still talking, swamped it. She was a trim elderly woman, well laced in, with greying hair and rather hard features, and she had a good command of that most devastating of a salesman’s weapons, uninterrupted speech.
“It was my uncle,” she was saying now, “who had the windows sealed—against burglars, you understand—at the time when he was thinking of putting his very valuable collection of porcelain in here, rather than have it scattered all over the house. In actual fact he never did , put it in here, I mean, because the income-tax people made a quite outrageous claim against him, for years back, and he had to sell most of the collection so as to be able to pay, at least he always said he couldn’t avoid selling it, though I really think it must have been partly pique , because Betty, that was his daughter, inherited investments , really quite substantial investments, when he died, and so there you are, but most schools do have a museum, I believe, butterflies and bits of rock and things, and since that’s what it was originally intended for …”
“I’ll keep the suggestion in mind.” Fen interposed firmly. “And now I'd better be going, I think. My Committee’s due to meet again in a few days’ time. and the Secretary will write to you.” He started edging towards the front door. “You’ve been very kind indeed. most kind.”
“And you will remember to tell them that it’s a new house, won’t you?” With a skilful flanking movement, Mrs. Danvers got ahead of him, thereby temporarily cutting off his retreat. “I mean, so many of these huge places are old and falling to bits that the mere size of it may give a wrong impression, but this was built only just before the war, the 1939 war that is, and although I've had to keep so many of the rooms shut up it really is in very good condition, no one but the family has lived in it, it’s never been let even, and as to small children and animals, so destructive don’t you think, they just haven’t been allowed inside, not ever, so you see it really has been looked after.”
Mumbling assent, Fen made a break for it and gained the doorstep. “Very kind,” he said. “Put you to a lot of trouble, I'm afraid… Other houses being looked at… Can’t be sure what my Committee will decide… Let you know as soon as possible.” Emitting other such reassurances and farewells, he fled.
The house wouldn’t do, of course, he reflected as he turned into the road through the ornate lodge-gates: it was grotesquely inconvenient for almost any purpose. There was one aspect of it which had aroused his curiosity, however. and he remained pensive, weighing and rejecting alternative hypotheses, as he strolled into the little town… Presently, coming to the Market Square, he halted uncertainly. He had intended to catch the 6.13 bus back to Oxford, and so be in time for dinner in Hall; and it would be inconvenient, from the point of view of eating, if he missed that bus. On the other hand, he was by nature voraciously inquisitive, and the oddity he had observed, though apparently trivial in itself, would remain, he knew, to perplex and irritate him so long as he made no attempt to investigate it. In the end, curiosity triumphed. Retracing his steps, he made his way back to a public-house which he had noticed quite close to the house he had been inspecting.
Its landlord proved affable; and on learning Fen’s mission in the neighbourhood, became voluntarily informative. “’Ti’n’t the sort of place I’d want to buy,” he confided, breathing heavily with the effort of keeping his massive form adequately supplied with oxygen. “All right for a school, I dessay, but that’s all. What old Ridgeon wanted to build it so big for, I really don’t—”
“Ridgeon?”
“Ah. Old chap as collected china and stuff. You’d think he’d had a family of twenty-seven, what with the size of the place, but there was only the one daughter. But ‘’Iggs,’ ’e
“It was my uncle,” she was saying now, “who had the windows sealed—against burglars, you understand—at the time when he was thinking of putting his very valuable collection of porcelain in here, rather than have it scattered all over the house. In actual fact he never did , put it in here, I mean, because the income-tax people made a quite outrageous claim against him, for years back, and he had to sell most of the collection so as to be able to pay, at least he always said he couldn’t avoid selling it, though I really think it must have been partly pique , because Betty, that was his daughter, inherited investments , really quite substantial investments, when he died, and so there you are, but most schools do have a museum, I believe, butterflies and bits of rock and things, and since that’s what it was originally intended for …”
“I’ll keep the suggestion in mind.” Fen interposed firmly. “And now I'd better be going, I think. My Committee’s due to meet again in a few days’ time. and the Secretary will write to you.” He started edging towards the front door. “You’ve been very kind indeed. most kind.”
“And you will remember to tell them that it’s a new house, won’t you?” With a skilful flanking movement, Mrs. Danvers got ahead of him, thereby temporarily cutting off his retreat. “I mean, so many of these huge places are old and falling to bits that the mere size of it may give a wrong impression, but this was built only just before the war, the 1939 war that is, and although I've had to keep so many of the rooms shut up it really is in very good condition, no one but the family has lived in it, it’s never been let even, and as to small children and animals, so destructive don’t you think, they just haven’t been allowed inside, not ever, so you see it really has been looked after.”
Mumbling assent, Fen made a break for it and gained the doorstep. “Very kind,” he said. “Put you to a lot of trouble, I'm afraid… Other houses being looked at… Can’t be sure what my Committee will decide… Let you know as soon as possible.” Emitting other such reassurances and farewells, he fled.
The house wouldn’t do, of course, he reflected as he turned into the road through the ornate lodge-gates: it was grotesquely inconvenient for almost any purpose. There was one aspect of it which had aroused his curiosity, however. and he remained pensive, weighing and rejecting alternative hypotheses, as he strolled into the little town… Presently, coming to the Market Square, he halted uncertainly. He had intended to catch the 6.13 bus back to Oxford, and so be in time for dinner in Hall; and it would be inconvenient, from the point of view of eating, if he missed that bus. On the other hand, he was by nature voraciously inquisitive, and the oddity he had observed, though apparently trivial in itself, would remain, he knew, to perplex and irritate him so long as he made no attempt to investigate it. In the end, curiosity triumphed. Retracing his steps, he made his way back to a public-house which he had noticed quite close to the house he had been inspecting.
Its landlord proved affable; and on learning Fen’s mission in the neighbourhood, became voluntarily informative. “’Ti’n’t the sort of place I’d want to buy,” he confided, breathing heavily with the effort of keeping his massive form adequately supplied with oxygen. “All right for a school, I dessay, but that’s all. What old Ridgeon wanted to build it so big for, I really don’t—”
“Ridgeon?”
“Ah. Old chap as collected china and stuff. You’d think he’d had a family of twenty-seven, what with the size of the place, but there was only the one daughter. But ‘’Iggs,’ ’e
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