Mrs. Bradley produced the threepence and received a second printed ticket. The whole thing was run on very businesslike lines, she perceived. She wondered who the owner might be, and thought she might as well enquire. The reply she received surprised her.
"Why, the lady that got all the money. The sister of the one that was tried for the murder and afterwards drownded herself. She bought the house, and left it to her sister in the will—or, anyway, left it."
"Oh? Miss Tessa Foxley owns it?"
"Foxley. That's the name."
"And she pays you your wages?"
"Ah."
"Why doesn't she allow the whole of the house to be inspected? Why do you keep some of the rooms shut up?"
"Nothing of interest in 'em, that's the reason. But you can see 'em, if you have a mind. I got no orders about 'em either way. I keep 'em locked because it makes less cleaning, and that's the truth. Folks don't often complain. They reckon they've had their money's worth with what we calls the Death Room and the Death Spot and the Cold Room and the Haunted Walk. All them bits I've showed you already, see? Then generally the visitors haven't got no time to look at any more. It's all this rushing about with motors does it. They've just got time to see the Abbey Church and the ruins and this house, you see, in the afternoon, because they have to start rushing their-selves back to London, and there it is. Americans is worse than the English. Never knew such people to hustle you off your feet. And always ask for a Brochure, and taking either no interest at all in what you tell them or else too much, and asking you all kinds of things you don't know."
"Is there such a thing?" asked Mrs. Bradley, referring to the pamphlet. "I myself should like a copy if there is."
"Another sixpence. 'Tain't worth it. Keep your money is my advice."
"If it happens to have a plan of the house, it is what I want."
"Oh, ah, yes, it has got that."
"With the various places marked?"
"Oh, ah. Here it is. You can have a look at it, and then, if you don't want to buy it, you can give it me back, so be you haven't made it dirty. I generally charges a penny a look, but you needn't pay it, seeing you takes an interest."
"I'll buy it," said Mrs. Bradley firmly. "And I want Miss Foxley's address."
At dinner that night she had the booklet open upon the table, and affected to study it while she was drinking her soup. The waitress, whose custom it was to converse with the patrons if they were staying in the house, bent over it too, and observed, as she took up Mrs. Bradley's plate :
"Been to take a look at the haunted house? Waste of money, isn't it, madam? I went once, with my young man, when it was first opened to the public, and I can't say it was much of a thrill. I went to see Boris Karloff that same evening, and, believe me, there wasn't no comparison."
"No, I suppose not," said Mrs. Bradley. When the plates next were changed and she was being helped to fruit pie and custard, she said :
"Are you a native of these parts?"
"Well, yes, I am, really," the girl answered, "though I was in London for three or four years and lost the talk. They think you're kind of funny in London if you talk like you came from a village, so I picked up their way instead. Have to keep your end up, don't you, madam, if you want to get on in the world?"
Mrs. Bradley said that she supposed so, and then asked whether the house had had its present reputation very long.
"Well, I never heard much about it when I was little," said the girl. "It was always a coach and horses then, and it didn't do anything except go along the road that turns off just above the house to the right. I don't know whether you noticed? But I did hear that what is now part of the garden did used to be the road, till they brought it round a bit to make a less dangerous corner by them crossroads."
"How long has the house been there?"
"Oh, years and years, madam."
Mrs. Bradley waited for the introduction of the cheese course before continuing the talk. Then she said :