CHAPTER VII.

CONWAY'S DISCOVERIES.

CONWAY was a tall boy of between fifteen and sixteen, and acknowledged Gertrude's salutation with not over-ceremonious courtesy. He was, however, full of some news he was anxious to bring out, and directly the door was shut and Gertrude had taken the seat Mollie pushed towards her, he began—

"I say! Such a lark as I have had!"

"When?" asked Ned. "What do you mean?"

"I went just now to the Strange House. I thought as it was the last day of the holidays that I would signalize it!"

"Miss Ashlyn does not know anything about the Strange House," interrupted Mollie.

"Then I shall tell her," said Ned, "so that Conway can gather breath for his story."

"Pooh!" laughed Conway. "But, anyway, Miss Ashlyn must be told about our episode the other night, or she will not see why I was so anxious to find out about our mysterious neighbour."

"First, then," said Ned, "about a year ago the next house (which you perceive is a somewhat old-fashioned one, and is not nearly such a good one as ours) was taken by some one, and a van with furniture came in the evening just before dark.

"We did not take much notice, but thought one van was but little for the size of the house. We were somewhat curious about our new neighbours, but never could see any of them about, except a man, who could not be called a gentleman, whom we dubbed 'Mr. Eccentric.'

"No tradesmen seem to call. No postmen bring letters. Except for that one man who continually works in his garden, the house might be empty."

"Perhaps he likes solitude," suggested Gertrude, as Ned paused.

"But," said Mollie eagerly, "that's the strange part of it. Mother and I certainly saw a light moved and put out that night when the new policeman took the man up for a burglar."

Conway now took up the thread and explained all about the events recorded in the first chapter, gratified to find a fresh listener in the governess, and to see that her attention did not flag.

"Well, let all that be," said Ned at last. "Now tell us what you have found out more. You do not mean to say that you went up to the house, Conway? But you've got cheek for anything."

"I had cheek enough for that," laughed Conway. "I went just now and knocked at the door, intending to ask the old fellow how he felt after his apprehension the other night. But I knocked and I rang, I knocked and I rang, till I was tired of that game. Nobody came to the door, for the very reason that nobody was at home to do so, I suppose. Just as I was turning on my heel, the old fellow came up the garden path and asked stiffly what I might want.

"I told him I had come to make inquiries as to his health—"

"You never did!" exclaimed Ned.

"I did! I sympathized with him in the bobby's rough handling, et cetera, et cetera, and got him round into a good temper before I had done with him."

"That's like you!" said Mollie.

"He told me that he lived by himself, that he might be perhaps a little peculiar, but that gardening was his hobby. And that if only folks would let him alone, he did not wish to meddle with any one. He would go his way, and they could go theirs."

"How funny!" said Ned.

"But for all his peculiarity, there was a certain uneasiness about him," Conway went on, "that made me suspicious. He's got heaps of vegetables and fruit in that back garden!"

"Of course he has," said Mollie; "any one with eyes can see that from our back windows! Why yesterday there were half a dozen beautiful marrows on trellis-work, and to-day they are all gone."

"He's eaten them all," said Ned.

"They were gone when I got up this morning," said Mollie, "for I noticed. I believe he sells them."

"Who to?" asked Conway scornfully.

"At Covent Garden, or somewhere. He sauntered in at the front gate about eight o'clock this morning. 'I' believe he gets up and goes to market early when no one is about."

"There's something queer about it," said Conway; "don't you think so, Miss Ashlyn?"

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