AM a lawyer by profession, and have a snug set of chambers in Chancery Lane. My name is Charles Pleydell. I have many clients, and can already pronounce myself a rich man.
On a certain morning towards the end of September in the year 1897 I received the following letter:—
This letter was dated from the Carlton Hotel.
Now, it so happened that a client of mine had asked me a few months before to try and let his house—an old-fashioned and somewhat gruesome mansion, situated on a lonely part of Hampstead Heath. It occurred to me that this house would exactly suit the lady whose letter I had just read.
At eleven o’clock one of my clerks brought me in a card. On it were written the words, “Miss Muriel Scaiffe.” I desired the man to show the lady in, and a moment later a slight, fair-haired English girl entered the room.
“Mrs. Scaiffe is not quite well and has sent me in her stead. You have received a letter from my step-mother, have you not, Mr. Pleydell?”
“I have,” I replied. “Will you sit down, Miss Scaiffe?”
She did so. I looked at her attentively. She was young and pretty. She also looked good, and although there was a certain anxiety about her face which she could not quite repress, her smile was very sweet.
“Your step-mother,” I said, “requires a house with somewhat peculiar conditions?”
“Oh, yes,” the girl answered. “She is very anxious on the subject. We want to be settled within a week.”
“That is a very short time in which to take and furnish a house,” I could not help remarking.
“Yes,” she said, again. “But, all the same, in our case it is essential. My step-mother says that anything can be done if there is enough money.”
“That is true in a sense,” I replied, smilingly. “If I can help you I shall be pleased. You want a house on a common?”
“On a common or moor.”
“It so happens, Miss Scaiffe, that there is a place called The Rosary at Hampstead which may suit you. Here are the particulars. Read them over for yourself and tell me if there is any use in my giving you an order to view.”
She read the description eagerly, then she said:—
“I am sure Mrs. Scaiffe would like to see this house. When can we go?”
“To-day, if you like, and if you particularly wish it I can meet you at The Rosary at three o’clock.”
“That will do nicely,” she answered.
Soon afterwards she left me.
The rest of the morning passed as usual, and at the appointed hour I presented myself at the gates of The Rosary. A carriage was already drawn up there, and as I approached a tall lady with very dark eyes stepped out of it.
A glance showed me that the young lady had not accompanied her.
“You are Mr. Pleydell?” she said, holding out her hand to me, and speaking in excellent English.
“Yes,” I answered.
“You saw my step-daughter this morning?”
“Yes,” I said again.
“I have called to see the house,” she continued. “Muriel tells me that it is likely to suit my requirements. Will you show it to me?”
I opened the gates, and we entered a wide carriage-drive. The Rosary had been unlet for some months, and weeds partly covered the avenue. The grounds had a desolate and gloomy appearance, leaves were falling thickly from the trees, and altogether the entire place looked undesirable and neglected.
The Spanish lady, however, seemed delighted with everything. She looked around her with sparkling glances. Flashing her dark eyes into my face, she praised the trees and avenue, the house, and all that the house contained.
She remarked that the rooms were spacious, the lobbies wide; above all things, the cellars numerous.
“I am particular about the cellars, Mr. Pleydell,” she said.
“Indeed!” I answered. “At all events, there are plenty of them.”
“Oh, yes! And this one is so large. It will quite suit our purpose. We will turn it into a laboratory.
“My brother and I Oh, I have not told you about my brother. He is a Spaniard—Señor Merello—he joins us here next week. He and I are scientists, and I hope scientists of no mean order. We have come to England for the purpose of experimenting. In this land of the free we can do what we please. We feel, Mr. Pleydell—you look so sympathizing that I cannot help confiding in you—we feel that we are on the verge of a very great—a very astounding discovery, at which the world, yes, the whole world will wonder. This house is the one of all others for our purpose. When can we take possession, Mr. Pleydell?”