order to satisfy my curiosity. So, putting on
a different suit, a different collar, and a soft felt hat which I
never wore, in a perhaps feeble attempt to transform myself from my
usual appearance, I went forth again.

My first visit was to the bank, where I saw the manager and explained
that the cheque had been stolen from my pocket, though I did not
expose the real facts. Then, after he had condoled with me upon my
loss, and offered to send the description of the thief to the police
at once, I re-entered the taxi, and drove back to Porchester Terrace,
alighting a short distance from Althorp House.

CHAPTER TEN

CONTAINS A FURTHER SURPRISE

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 nev