“I was out in South Africa during the Boer War, sir,” Parkins replied, “and I went big game hunting with my master afterwards. I do not think that any animal was ever born in Africa with so terrifying a cry as we heard the night before last.” “We must look into the matter,” Dominey muttered. “I have already prepared a bath, sir, at the end of the corridor,” the man announced. “If you will allow me, I will show you the way.” Dominey, when he descended about an hour later, found his guest awaiting him in the smaller dining-room, which looked out eastwards towards the sea, a lofty apartment with great windows and with an air of faded splendour which came from the ill-cared-for tapestries, hanging in places from the wall. Mr. Mangan had, contrary to his expectations, slept well and was in excellent spirits. The row of silver dishes upon the sideboard inspired him with an added cheerfulness. “So there were no ghosts walking last night?” he remarked, as he took his place at the table. “Wonderful thing this absolute quiet is after London. Give you my word, I never heard a sound from the moment my head touched the pillow until I woke a short while ago.” Dominey returned from the sideboard, carrying also a well-filled plate. “I had a pretty useful night's rest myself,” he observed. Mangan raised his eyeglass and gazed at his host's throat. “Cut yourself?” he queried. “Razor slipped,” Dominey told him. “You get out of the use of those things in Africa.” “You've managed to give yourself a nasty gash,” Mr. Mangan observed curiously. “Parkins is going to send up for a new set of safety razors for me,” Dominey announced. “About our plans for the day,--I've ordered the car for two-thirty this afternoon, if that suits you. We can look around the place quietly this morning. Mr. Johnson is sleeping over at a farmhouse near here. We shall pick him up en route. And I have told Lees, the bailiff, to come with us too.” Mr. Mangan nodded his approval. “Upon my word,” he confessed, “it will be a joy to me to go and see some of these fellows without having to put 'em off about repairs and that sort of thing. Johnson has had the worst of it, poor chap, but there are one or two of them took it into their heads to come up to London and worry me at the office.” “I intend that there shall be no more dissatisfaction amongst my tenants.” Mr. Mangan set off for another prowl towards the sideboard. “Satisfied tenants you never will get in Norfolk,” he declared. “I must admit, though, that some of them have had cause to grumble lately. There's a fellow round by Wells who farms nearly eight hundred acres--” He broke off in his speech. There was a knock at the door, not an ordinary knock at all, but a measured, deliberate tapping, three times repeated. “Come in,” Dominey called out. Mrs. Unthank entered, severer, more unattractive than ever in the hard morning light. She came to the end of the table, facing the place where Dominey was seated.