Free Adventures of Martin Hewitt by Arthur Morrison Page A

dozen thicknesses, leaving an open diameter
of some four inches in the centre. Hewitt looked at each in turn and then
replaced the heap as he had found it. After this to regain the skylight was
not difficult by the aid of a trestle. The pane was replaced as well as the
absence of fresh putty permitted, and five minutes later Hewitt was in a
hansom bound for Crouch End.

     

     
    He dismissed his cab at the police station. Within he had no difficulty in
procuring a direction to Trennatt, the nurseryman, and a short walk brought
him to the place. A fairly high wall topped with broken glass bounded the
nursery garden next the road and in the wall were two gates, one a wide
double one for the admission of vehicles, and the other a smaller one of open
pales, for ordinary visitors. The garden stood sheltered by higher ground
behind, whereon stood a good-sized house, just visible among the trees that
surrounded it. Hewitt walked along by the side of the wall. Soon he came to
where the ground of the nursery garden appeared to be divided from that of
the house by a most extraordinarily high hedge extending a couple of feet
above the top of the wall itself. Stepping back, the better to note this
hedge, Hewitt became conscious of two large boards, directly facing each
other, with scarcely four feet space between them, one erected on a post in
the ground of the house and the other similarly elevated from that of the
nursery, each being inscribed in large letters, “Trespassers will be prosecuted. ”
    Hewitt smiled and passed on; here plainly was a neighbour’s quarrel of
long standing, for neither board was by any means new. The wall continued,
and keeping by it Hewitt made the entire circuit of the large house and its
grounds, and arrived once more at that part of the wall that enclosed the
nursery garden. Just here, and near the wider gate, the upper part of a
cottage was visible, standing within the wall, and evidently the residence of
the nurseryman. It carried a conspicuous board with the legend, “H. M.
Trennatt, Nurseryman.” The large house and the nursery stood entirely apart
from other houses or enclosures, and it would seem that the nursery ground
had at some time been cut off from the grounds attached to the house.
    Hewitt stood for a moment thoughtfully, and then walked back to the outer
gate of the house on the rise. It was a high iron gate, and as Hewitt
perceived, it was bolted at the bottom. Within the garden showed a neglected
and weed-choked appearance, such as one associates with the garden of a house
that has stood long empty.
    A little way off a policeman walked. Hewitt accosted him and spoke of the
house. “I was wondering if it might happen to be to let,” he said. “Do you
know?”
    “No, sir,” the policeman replied, “it ain’t; though anyone might almost
think it, to look at the garden. That’s a Mr. Fuller as lives there—and
a rum ‘un too.”
    “Oh, he’s a rum ‘un, is he? Keeps himself shut up, perhaps?”
    “Yes, sir. On’y ‘as one old woman, deaf as a post, for servant, and never
lets nobody into the place. It’s a rare game sometimes with the milkman. The
milkman, he comes and rings that there bell, but the old gal’s so deaf she
never ‘ears it. Then the milkman, he just slips ‘is ‘and through the
gate-rails, lifts the bolt and goes and bangs at the door. Old Fuller runs
out and swears a good ‘un. The old gal comes out and old Fuller swears at
‘er, and she turns round and swears back like anything. She don’t care for
‘im—not a bit. Then when he ain’t ‘avin’ a row with the milkman and the
old gal he goes down the garden and rows with the old nurseryman there down
the ‘ill. He jores the nurseryman from ‘is side o’ the hedge and the
nurseryman he jores back at the top of ‘is voice. I’ve stood out there ten
minutes together and nearly bust myself a-laughin’ at them gray-‘eaded old
fellers a-callin’