CHAPTER SEVEN
MORTOVER GRANGE
Wedgwood took a good look at this venerable survival of a past age before he approached nearer. As a countryman born and bred he had some knowledge of old houses, and he knew that in this he saw one that had lasted for many and many a generation: had he possessed more technical knowledge of such things he would have been able to fix an approximate date for its buildings, for over the entrance a Tudor rose and a portcullis, the badge of Henry VII, denoted that it had been erected at some date between the years 1485 and 1509. There was more heraldic carving about the front, and that and the timbered walls, quaint chimneys, and whitewashed gables made a picture against the dark hillside at the back. An eerie place, thought the detective—the sort of house in which there were, no doubt, secret hiding-places; passages, the whereabouts of which was only known to the family; dark rooms and recesses the very atmosphere of which would suggest mystery and romance. And there was an air of gloom and silence about the whole
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