Goldthorpe pursued his walk, thinking of what he had seen, and wondering what it all meant. On his way back he made a point of again passing the deserted houses, and again he peered over the wall of the passage. The man was still there, but no longer seated with the concertina; wearing a round felt hat instead of the straw, he stood almost knee-deep in vegetation, and appeared to be examining the various growths about him. Presently he moved forward, and, with head still bent, approached the lower end of the garden, where, in a wall higher than that over which Goldthorpe made his espial, there was a wooden door. This the man opened with a key, and, having passed out, could be heard to turn a lock behind him. A minute more, and this short, respectable figure came into sight at the end of the passage. Goldthorpe could not resist the opportunity thus offered. Affecting to turn a look of interest towards the nearest roof, he waited until the stranger was about to pass him, then, with civil greeting, ventured upon a question. 'Can you tell me how these houses come to be in this neglected state?' The stranger smiled; a soft, modest, deferential smile such as became his countenance, and spoke in a corresponding voice, which had a vaguely provincial accent. 'No wonder it surprises you, sir. I should be surprised myself. It comes of quarrels and lawsuits.' 'So I supposed. Do you know who the property belongs to?' 'Well, yes, sir. The fact is--it belongs to me.' The avowal was made apologetically, and yet with a certain timid pride. Goldthorpe exhibited all the interest he felt. An idea had suddenly sprung up in his mind; he met the stranger's look, and spoke with the easy good-humour natural to him. 'It seems a great pity that houses should be standing empty like that. Are they quite uninhabitable? Couldn't one camp here during this fine summer weather? To tell you the truth, I'm looking for a room--as cheap a room as I can get. Could you let me one for the next three months?' The stranger was astonished. He regarded the young man with an uneasy smile. 'You are joking, sir.' 'Not a bit of it. Is the thing quite impossible? Are all the rooms in too bad a state?' 'I won't say _that_,' replied the other cautiously, still eyeing his interlocutor with surprised glances. 'The upper rooms are really not so bad--that is to say, from a humble point of view. I--I have been looking at them just now. You really mean, sir--?' 'I'm quite in earnest, I assure you,' cried Goldthorpe cheerily. 'You see I'm tolerably well dressed still, but I've precious little money, and I want to eke out the little I've got for about three months. I'm writing a book. I think I shall manage to sell it when it's done, but it'll take me about three months yet. I don't care what sort of place I live in, so long as it's quiet. Couldn't we come to terms?'