uncle had turned his back upon him. The word he muttered sounded
like a malediction, but Arnold Chetwode went down the stone steps
blithely. It was an untrodden land, this, into which he was to pass.




CHAPTER III

ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY


From the first, nothing about that evening was as Arnold had
expected. He took the tube to Hampstead station, and, the night
being dry, he walked to Pelham Lodge without detriment to his
carefully polished patent shoes. The neighborhood was entirely
strange to him and he was surprised to find that the house which was
pointed out to him by a policeman was situated in grounds of not
inconsiderable extent, and approached by a short drive. Directly he
rang the bell he was admitted not by a flamboyant parlormaid but by
a quiet, sad-faced butler in plain, dark livery, who might have been
major-domo to a duke. The house was even larger than he had
expected, and was handsomely furnished in an extremely subdued
style. It was dimly, almost insufficiently lit, and there was a
faint but not unpleasant odor in the drawing-room which reminded him
of incense. The room itself almost took his breath away. It was
entirely French. The hangings, carpet and upholstery were all of a
subdued rose color and white. Arnold, who was, for a young man,
exceedingly susceptible to impressions, looked around him with an
air almost of wonder. It was fortunate, perhaps, that the room was