Quimper for the night, and seated beside a fat and affable
stranger I felt no inclination to talk of Kerfol. . .

But that evening, when Lanrivain and the solicitor were closeted
in the study, Madame de Lanrivain began to question me in the
drawing-room.

"Well--are you going to buy Kerfol?" she asked, tilting up her
gay chin from her embroidery.

"I haven't decided yet. The fact is, I couldn't get into the
house," I said, as if I had simply postponed my decision, and
meant to go back for another look.

"You couldn't get in? Why, what happened? The family are mad to
sell the place, and the old guardian has orders--"

"Very likely. But the old guardian wasn't there."

"What a pity! He must have gone to market. But his daughter--?"

"There was nobody about. At least I saw no one."

"How extraordinary! Literally nobody?"

"Nobody but a lot of dogs--a whole pack of them--who seemed to
have the place to themselves."

Madame de Lanrivain let the embroidery slip to her knee and
folded her hands on it. For several minutes she looked at me