He glanced quickly about the place before we left it, then, leaving the door locked behind us, we walked along to the gate before which the constable stood on duty, and from thence proceeded up the drive to the front entrance.  There was a deep porch supported by pillars and densely overgrown with creeper.  I noted, too, a heavy and unhealthy odor as of decaying leaves, and observed that a perfect carpet of these lay on the path.  In the shade of the big trees it was comparatively cool, but the heavy malarious smell did not please me and I imagined that it must have repelled more than one would-be lessee.

As we approached the porch I saw that the windows of the rooms immediately left and right of it had been stripped of the agent’s bills, for I could see where fragments of paper still adhered to the glass.  There were no bills in the porch either; but when Gatton opened the front door I uttered an exclamation of surprise.

We stood in a small lounge-hall.  There was a staircase on the left and three doors opened on to the hall.  But although the Red House was palpably unoccupied, the hall was furnished!  There were some rugs upon the polished floor, a heavy bronze club-fender in front of the grate, several chairs against the walls and a large palm in a Chinese pot.

“Why,” I exclaimed, “the place is furnished and the stairs are carpeted too!”

“Yes,” said Gatton, looking keenly about him, “but according to report if you will step upstairs you will get a surprise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, suppose we go and see.”

Gatton led the way and I followed up the stairs as far as the first landing.  Here I paused in amazement.  For at this point all attempts at furnishing ceased.  The landing was quite bare and so were the stairs above it!  Seeing my expression of incredulous surprise: 

“Yes,” said Gatton, smiling, “it’s a strange arrangement, isn’t it?”

We descended again to the furnished hall.

“Look here,” continued my companion.

He unlocked a door on the left, having tried several keys from the bunch which he carried without success, but finally discovering the right one.

A long rectangular room was revealed, evidently intended for a dining-room.  It was empty and unfurnished, odds and ends of newspaper and other rubbish lying here and there upon the floor.  My astonishment was momentarily increasing.  A second door, that in the center, Gatton opened, revealing another empty room, but: 

“I have reserved this one for the last,” he said:  “you will find that it is unlocked.”

He pointed to the third door, that on the right, and as he evidently intended me to open it, I stepped forward, turned the handle and entered a small square room, exquisitely furnished.