Everything was ordered by
telephone from Brighton, and left at the porter's lodge. The porter was a
stranger, also he was deaf and exceedingly ill-tempered, so that long
since the village had abandoned the hope of getting anything out of him.
One rational human being they saw from the Grange occasionally, a big man
with an exceedingly benevolent face and mild, large, blue eyes--a man
full of Christian kindness and given to largesse to the village boys. The
big gentleman went by the name of "Mr. Charles," and was understood to
have a lot of pigeons of which he was exceedingly fond. But who "Mr.
Charles" was, or how he got that name, it would have puzzled the wisest
head of the village to tell.
And yet, but for the mighty clamour of that hideous bell and that belt of
wildness that surrounded it, Longdean Grange was a cheerful-looking house
enough. Any visitor emerging from the drive would have been delighted
with it. For the lawns were trim and truly kept, the beds were blazing
masses of flowers, the creepers over the Grange were not allowed to riot
too extravagantly. And yet the strange haunting sense of fear was there.
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