No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. ’ Gerald started. ” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet.
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