Even Withersby Hall and its environs had had the same close intensive
study, and everything that was to be learnt from guide-books, tourists'
enquiry offices and the like, was hidden away in the innermost recesses
of his remarkable brain.
Borkins, standing at the smoking-room window--a favourite haunt of his
from which he was able to see without too ostensibly being seen--noted
their coming up the broad driveway, with something of disfavour in his
look. Merriton had given him certain directions only the night before,
and Borkins was a keen-sighted man. Also, the little fat johnny at any
rate, didn't quite look the type of man that the Merriton's were in the
habit of entertaining at the Towers.
However, he opened the door with a flourish, and told the gentlemen that
"Sir Nigel is in the drorin'-room," whither he led them with much pomp.
Cleek took in the place at a glance. Noted the wide, deep hallway; the
old-fashioned outlines of the house, smartened up freshly by the hands of
modern workmen; the set of each door and window that he passed, and
stowed away these impressions in the pigeon-holes of his mind.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116