Bridges of wood and bridges of brick crossed the stream, and gave access
to the house from all points of the compass. No human creature appeared
in the neighborhood, and no sound was heard but the hoarse barking of a
house-dog from an invisible courtyard.
"Which door shall I drive to, sir?" asked the coachman. "The front or
the back?"
"The back," said Captain Wragge, feeling that the less notice he
attracted in his present position, the safer that position might be.
The carriage twice crossed the stream before the coachman made his way
through the grounds into a dreary inclosure of stone. At an open door on
the inhabited side of the place sat a weather-beaten old man, busily
at work on a half-finished model of a ship. He rose and came to the
carriage door, lifting up his spectacles on his forehead, and looking
disconcerted at the appearance of a stranger.
"Is Mr. Noel Vanstone staying here?" asked Captain Wragge.
"Yes, sir," replied the old man. "Mr. Noel came yesterday."
"Take that card to Mr. Vanstone, if you please," said the captain, "and
say I am waiting here to see him."
In a few minutes Noel Vanstone made his appearance, breathless and
eager--absorbed in anxiety for news from Aldborough.
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