off at Perkinsville, Ohio, on your way, and take
a look at Gauntmoor Castle? They say it's a wonderful old pile; and its
history is in many ways connected with that of our own family. As long
as you're the last of the Geoffray Pierreponts, such things ought to
interest you." Like her auburn namesake who bossed the Thames of yore,
sweet, red-haired, romantic autocrat, Aunt Elizabeth! Her wishes were
commands.

"What the deuce is Aunt Elizabeth up to now?" I asked Tim Cole, my law
partner, whom I found in my rooms smoking my tobacco. "Why should I be
inspecting Gauntmoor Castle--and what is a castle named Gauntmoor doing
in Perkinsville, Ohio, anyway? Perkinsville sounds like the Middle West,
and Gauntmoor sounds like the Middle Ages."

"Right in both analyses," said the pipe-poaching Tim. "Castle Gauntmoor
_is_ from the Middle Ages, and we all know about where in Ohio
Perkinsville is. But is it possible that you, twenty-seven years old and
a college graduate, haven't heard of Thaddeus Hobson, the Marvelous
Millionaire?" I shook my head. "The papers have been full of Hobson in
the past two or three years," said Tim. "It was in 1898, I think, that
Fate jumped Thaddeus Hobson to the golden Olympus. He was first head
salesman in the village hardware store, then he formulated so successful
a scheme to clean up the Tin Plate Combine that he put away a fabulous
number of millions in a year, and subsequently went to England. Finally
he set his heart on Norman architecture. After a search he found the
ancient Castle Gauntmoor still habitable and for sale. He thrilled the
British comic papers by his offer to buy the castle and move it to
America. Hobson saw the property, telegraphed to London, and closed the
deal in two hours. And an army of laborers at once began taking the
Gauntmoor to pieces, stone by stone.

"Transporting that relic to America involved a cost in labor and
ingenuity comparable with nothing that has yet happened. Moving the
Great Pyramid would be a lighter job, perhaps. Thousands of tons of
scarred and medieval granite were carried to the railroads, freighted to
the sea, and dragged across the Atlantic in whopping big lighters
chartered for the job. And the next the newspapers knew, the monster
was set up in Perkinsville, Ohio."

"But why did he do it?" I asked.

"Who knows?" said Tim. "Ingrowing sentiment--unlimited capital--wanted
to do something for the Home Town, probably; wanted to beautify the
villag