had been run out upon the brick-pavement which drained
the stables, and glistened with expensive smartness now
beneath the sponge of one of the hostlers. Under cover,
he discerned two other carriages, and there seemed to be
at least half a dozen horses. The men who, in the half
gloom of the loose-boxes, were busy grooming these
animals made a curious whistling noise as they worked.
Everybody in the yard touched a forelock to him as he passed.

From this quaint, old-world enclosure he wandered at
his leisure, through an open gate in the wall at the back,
into the gardens behind the house. There was not much
in the way of flowers to look at, but he moved about quite
unconscious of any deprivation. A cluster of greenhouses,
massed against the southern side of the mansion,
attracted his listless fancy, and he walked toward what
appeared to be an entrance to them. The door was locked,
but he found another further on which opened to his hand.
The air was very hot and moist inside, and the place was
so filled with broad-leaved, umbrageous tropical plants
that he had to stoop to make his way through to the end.
The next house had a more tolerable atmosphere, and contained
some blossoms to which he gave momentary attention.
In the third house, through the glass-door, he could
see a man--evidently a gardener--lifting some pots to a
shelf overhead.

The thought occurred to him that by entering into
conversation with this man, he might indirectly obtain
a hint as to the usual breakfast-hour at Hadlow. It was