Louis Tracy
The House 'Round the Corner
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4064066157661
Table of Contents
WHEREIN THE HOUSE RECEIVES A NEW TENANT
SHOWING HOW EVEN A HOUSE MAY HAVE A WAY OF ITS OWN
SHOWING HOW EXPLANATIONS DO NOT ALWAYS EXPLAIN
WHEREIN PERCY WHITTAKER PROVES HIMSELF A MAN OF ACTION
SHOWING THE REAL STRENGTH OF AN ILLUSION
CHAPTER I
WHEREIN THE HOUSE RECEIVES A NEW TENANT
The train had panted twelve miles up a sinuous valley, halting at three tiny stations on the way; it dwelt so long at the fourth that the occupant of a first-class carriage raised his eyes from the book he was reading. He found the platform packed with country folk, all heading in the same direction. Hitherto, this heedless traveller had been aware of some station-master or porter bawling an unintelligible name; now, his fellow-passengers seemed to know what place this was without being told; moreover, they seemed to be alighting there.
A porter, whose face, hands, and clothing were of one harmonious tint, suggesting that he had been dipped bodily in some brownish dye, and then left to dry in the sun, opened the door.
"Aren't you gettin' out, sir?" he inquired, and his tone implied both surprise and pain.
"Is this Nuttonby?" said the passenger.
"Yes, sir."
"Why this crush of traffic?"
"It's market day, sir."
"Thanks. I didn't expect to see such a crowd. Have you a parcels office, where I can leave some baggage?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hang on to this bag, then. There are three boxes in the van. You'll need a barrow—they're heavy!"
By this time, the man who knew so little of important Nuttonby—which held 3,005 inhabitants in the 1911 census, having increased by two since 1901—had risen, and was collecting a fisherman's outfit, and some odds and ends of personal belongings. He followed the porter, who, on eyeing the rods and pannier, and with some knowledge of "county" manners, had accepted the stranger as entitled to hold a first-class ticket. Sure enough, the boxes were heavy. The guard had to assist in handling them.
"By gum!" said the porter, when he tried to lift the first on to a trolley.
"Books," explained the traveler.
"I thought mebbe they wuz lead," said the porter.
"Some books have that quality," said the other.
The guard, a reader in his spare time, smiled. The owner of so much solid literature seized a stout leather handle.
"I'll give you a hand," he said, and the porter soon added to his slight store of facts concerning the newcomer. This tall, sparsely-built man in tweeds and a deer-stalker cap was no weakling.
The platform was nearly empty when the porter began to trundle the loaded trolley along its length. A pert youth appeared from nowhere, and cried "Ticket!" firmly, almost threateningly. He was given a first-class ticket from York, and a receipt for excess luggage. The bit of white