Part 21 (1/2)
”Rubbis.h.!.+ And by what?”
”By a white lady. She wanders up and down the park, wringing her hands.
But this Franklin evidently does not believe in ghosts, for he has been there these two months, and never a word from him.”
”What kind of a man is he?”
”A tall man, with very black eyes, and a black beard. No,” added Mrs.
Parry, correcting herself, ”I am wrong. He had a beard when he first came, and now has shaved it off.”
”Have you seen much of him?”
”Hardly anything. Morley is the only person with whom he is intimate in any degree. He hardly ever comes out, and when people call he is not at home. Why the man should have five thousand a year I can't make out. He does no good with it.”
”Any family? a wife?”
”There is a daughter, I understand, but she is an invalid, and keeps to her room or to the grounds. Weak in the head I should say, seeing how secluded her father keeps her.”
”Have you seen her?”
”Yes, I came on her unexpectedly one day--or rather one evening. A short girl, with red hair and a freckled face. She looks a fool, and was dressed in all the colors of the rainbow. I don't wonder he--I mean Franklin--keeps her out of sight.”
”Humph!” said Ware, rather astonished by the extent of Mrs. Parry's information, ”did the servants tell you all this?”
”There are no servants,” retorted Mrs. Parry, with scorn. ”The man is a mean creature. You may not believe me, Ware, but he has only three people to do the work of that huge house.”
”Then there are three servants?”
”Some people might call them so,” retorted Mrs. Parry, determined not to give up her point, ”but they are a queer lot--not at all like the domestic I have been used to. An old man, who acts as a kind of butler; a woman, his wife, who is the cook; and a brat of fifteen, the daughter I expect, who does the general work. Oh, it's quite a family affair.”
”A queer household. Does this man intend to stop long?”
”He has taken the Priory on a seven years' lease.”
”And Morley visits him?”
”Yes, and he visits Morley. They are as thick as thieves. Perhaps they may be thieves for all I know.”
”Does this man Franklin go about much?”
”Not a great deal, but he occasionally takes a walk into the village.
Sometimes he comes to church, and I believe the rector has called. I wish any one but him had taken the Priory. We want company in this dull place. Will you call and see him?”
”I ought to,” replied Ware slowly, ”seeing that I was engaged to Daisy, who should have had the money. But from what you say I should not think Franklin would care to see me, and certainly he does not seem to be a desirable neighbor.”
”He's quite a mistake,” snorted Mrs. Parry. ”I tried to be friendly, but he gave me to understand that he preferred his books to my company. He's a great reader, I understand.”
Evidently the good lady was somewhat sore on the subject, for she shortly changed it for another. First she began to talk of Daisy; secondly, wonder who had killed her, and why; and thirdly, she made mention of the grave. ”There's something queer about that,” she remarked, rubbing her nose, a sure sign of perplexity.
”How do you mean, queer?”
”Well----” Mrs. Parry looked thoughtfully at her guest. Then, before replying, she gave him permission to smoke. ”I like the scent of a cigar about the place,” she said; ”it reminds me of the Colonel. He was an awful man to smoke. The one habit I could not break him of.”