ragged rhododendrons.

The noise brought a man to the lodge door. He was a sturdy fellow
in a suit of black clothes which had not been made for him.
He might have been a butler EN DESHABILLE, but for the presence of a
pair of field boots into which he had tucked the ends of his trousers.
The curious thing about him was his face, which was decorated with
features so tiny as to give the impression of a monstrous child.
Each in itself was well enough formed, but eyes, nose, mouth, chin
were of a smallness curiously out of proportion to the head and body.
Such an anomaly might have been redeemed by the expression;
good-humour would have invested it with an air of agreeable farce.
But there was no friendliness in the man's face. It was set like a
judge's in a stony impassiveness.

"May we walk up to the House?" Heritage asked. "We are here for a
night and should like to have a look at it."

The man advanced a step. He had either a bad cold, or a voice
comparable in size to his features.

"There's no entrance here," he said huskily. "I have strict orders."

"Oh, come now," said Heritage. "It can do nobody any harm if you
let us in for half an hour."

The man advanced another step.

"You shall not come in. Go away from here. Go away, I tell you.
It is private." The words spoken by the small mouth in the small