"You will forgive me, won't you?" he said, as he regained the pavement.
"I really haven't smelt violets before this year. Spring comes upon us
Londoners so suddenly."

"About that house, now," the American insisted, a little sharply.

"Certainly," Burton replied, removing his eyes unwillingly from the
passing barrow. "I really don't think you had better take it, Mr.
Lynn. You see, it is not generally known, but there is no doubt that
Lord Idlemay had typhoid fever there."

"Typhoid!" Mr. Lynn exclaimed, incredulously.

His companion nodded.

"Two of the servants were down with it as well," he continued. "We
implored Lady Idlemay, when she offered us the letting of the house, to
have the drains put in thorough order, but when we got the estimate out
for her she absolutely declined. To tell you the truth, the best agents
had all refused, under the circumstances, to have the house upon their
books at all. That is why we got the letting of it."

Mr. Lynn removed the cigar from his mouth for a moment. There was a
slight frown Upon his forehead. He was puzzled.

"Say, you're not getting at me for any reason, are you?" he demanded.

"My dear sir!" Burton protested, eagerly. "I am simply doing my duty
and telling you the truth. The house is not in a fit state to be let to