Two days later Denry arrived home for tea with a most surprising article of news.  Mr Cecil Wilbraham had been down to Bursley from London, and had visited him, Denry.  Mr Cecil Wilbraham’s local information was evidently quite out of date, for he had imagined Denry to be a rent-collector and estate agent, whereas the fact was that Denry had abandoned this minor vocation years ago.  His desire had been that Denry should collect his rents and watch over his growing interests in the district.

“So what did you tell him?” asked Mrs Machin.

“I told him I’d do it.” said Denry.

“Why?”

“I thought it might be safer for you,” said Denry, with a certain emphasis.  “And, besides, it looked as if it might be a bit of a lark.  He’s a very peculiar chap.”

“Peculiar?”

“For one thing, he’s got the largest moustaches of any man I ever saw.  And there’s something up with his left eye.  And then I think he’s a bit mad.”

“Mad?”

“Well, touched.  He’s got a notion about building a funny sort of a house for himself on a plot of land at Bleakridge.  It appears he’s fond of living alone, and he’s collected all kind of dodges for doing without servants and still being comfortable.”

“Ay!  But he’s right there!” breathed Mrs Machin in deep sympathy.  As she said about once a week, “She never could abide the idea of servants.”  “He’s not married, then?” she added.

“He told me he’d been a widower three times, but he’d never had any children,” said Denry.

“Bless us!” murmured Mrs Machin.

Denry was the one person in the town who enjoyed the acquaintance and the confidence of the thrice-widowed stranger with long moustaches.  He had descended without notice on Bursley, seen Denry (at the branch office of the Thrift Club), and then departed.  It was understood that later he would permanently settle in the district.  Then the wonderful house began to rise on the plot of land at Bleakridge.  Denry had general charge of it, but always subject to erratic and autocratic instructions from London.  Thanks to Denry, who, since the historic episode at Llandudno, had remained very friendly with the Cotterill family, Mr Cotterill had the job of building the house; the plans came from London.  And though Mr Cecil Wilbraham proved to be exceedingly watchful against any form of imposition, the job was a remunerative one for Mr Cotterill, who talked a great deal about the originality of the residence.  The town judged of the wealth and importance of Mr Cecil Wilbraham by the fact that a person so wealthy and important as Denry should be content to act as his agent.  But then the Wilbrahams had been magnates in the Bursley region for generations, up till the final Wilbraham smash in the late seventies.  The town hungered to see those huge moustaches and that peculiar eye.  In addition to Denry, only one person had seen the madman, and that person was Nellie Cotterill, who