"He too inquired of the local inhabitants where Windward House might be situated, and received the same answer. They either did not know, or would not tell him."
"Are you making this up? Have you received instructions from people answering to the names of Hunter, Mudge, Dyer, Blisland, Kezia, Brock, to humbug me?" cried George.
"Certainly not, sir," said the agent sharply.
"Then I'm confounded! I don't believe in magic, ghosts, witches, evil eye, Aladdin's lamp, or pixies. Have you ever heard of such a thing in your life? Have you ever known a fine, big, well built, modern residence to vanish off the face of the earth, together with the ground it stood on, and the garden around it? Do you believe such a thing is possible? Because, if you do believe it, I am ruined."
And having thus spoken George wiped away the most genuine moisture that had ever dimmed his vision.
"I cannot offer any explanation, Mr. Drake, but it's certain your house has disappeared. Don't you think the best thing you can do is to go there yourself and find out what really has happened?"
"I won't go near the place," cried George. "I wouldn't be seen in it. I--I might disappear too."
"Then will you put the matter into the hands of the police?"
"I'll have nothing to do with them either," declared George.
"Shall I go myself and make inquiries of the vicar or some other reliable person?"
"All right," said George heavily. "It means more expense, but that's nothing to me now. If my house has gone, I may as well go to my last home at once. It's no use trying to kick against the powers of darkness," he muttered.
So the agent travelled to Highfield and collected a few details from certain inhabitants, who did not altogether approve of the local revolution, but were not going to make themselves unpopular by refusing to take a rub at the lamp themselves. Having learnt so much, it was easy to add to his information by assuming hostility to George and expressing approval of the punishment which had been meted out to him.
"Mr. Drake said one thing and meant another all the time he wur here," explained the Dumpy Philosopher. "Us didn't mind that, but when he started to treat us as human volks wur never meant to be treated, us had to learn 'em a serious lesson. His uncle promised to build us a railway, and they do say he left money vor it; but Mr. Drake did all he could to stop it from a-running. American gentlemen come here--a lot of 'em--to make the railway; but he said us didn't want it, and he drove 'em away, and he wouldn't let 'em spend a shilling. Said they'd come here to buy cloam. Said he'd rather see us all starve. Said he'd build the railway himself out of his own pocket, and he'd put a big waterwheel atop o' Highfield hill to draw the trains up; though us knew he couldn't, vor there ain't enough water coming over in summer to draw up a wheelbarrow. Said he'd make Highfield House a station and put a terminus in the back garden. I don't know what else he warn't going to do, but he wur talking childish day by day. And when he'd deceived us more than us could bear, he run away."