"Does this lead on into Beechfield, sir? I want to find The Trellis
House. I've been there once before, but it was broad daylight then."
Radmore peered at the speaker: a thin, medium-sized woman she seemed to
be; obviously not one of the country folk--by her accent a Londoner.
"Go straight on, and in about a quarter of an hour, you'll find The
Trellis House on your right. But you'd better enquire as soon as you get
into the village itself. Is it Mrs. Crofton's house that you want to
find?"
"Yes, that's the place I'm bound for," said the woman.
"Look here," said Radmore good-naturedly. "I was only going for a walk.
I'll take you along to The Trellis House. You might easily miss it."
He turned, and they began walking along the road side by side.
"I suppose Mrs. Crofton 'asn't gone away yet, I'm sure to find 'er there,
sir?" There was a doubting, almost a resentful, tone in the mincing
voice.
"I think she's at home. Isn't she expecting you?" Radmore had taken the
woman for a superior servant.
"She's not expecting me exactly, but me and my 'usband have been 'oping
for a letter from Mrs. Crofton. As nothing's come, I thought I'd just
come down and see 'er.
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