one thing I forgot , sir . about what they told Murray at the pub . the only other inhabitant &apos;s a girl . a niece , she &apos;s thought to be . Miss Kipper , in fact ? that may well be , sir . splendid . this affair is going to offer one sheerly aesthetic moment , at least . I look forward to it . and Appleby walked on . the drive was completely untended . it passed between ragged shrubberies and skirted a garden which was a wilderness . but even this hardly prepared one for the spectacle that the house itself presented on a closer view . it stood , as it were , knee-deep in weeds - like some forlorn prehistoric creature in an inedible pasture . its grey surfaces were flaked and cracked ; its woodwork was denuded of paint ; many of the lower windows showed tattered curtains pulled awry , and some of the upper ones lacked entire panes of glass . the effect was the more shocking because the house carried its breeding on its ruined face . if challenged to date it , Appleby would have said 1718 ; if challenged to name the builder , he would have said James Gibbs . but now it spoke either of madness - which , indeed , was what was attributed to its owner - or of penury . perhaps it spoke of both . Appleby found himself wondering how the false Astarte had risen to a decent coat and skirt when she had presented herself to Gulliver and Heffer on that fateful occasion . for this was Astarte &apos;s home . mysteriously , but finally , Appleby had n&apos;t the slightest doubt of it . he glanced at Heffer &apos;s car . it told him that Heffer was either a man of unassuming tastes or possessed of only a very modest private income indeed . he glanced at the other car , which Parker had supposed to be a doctor &apos;s . there was a brief-case on the back seat - and , neatly stacked beside it , a sheaf of documents tied with narrow pink tape . not a doctor , then . a solicitor . this discovery was a relief . Appleby mounted half a dozen steps to the front door . as he did so , he recalled Sir Gabriel Gulliver &apos;s guess at Astarte Oakes &apos;s background : the ponies and the spaniels in decay , and a garden boy beginning to feel entitled to a rise in wages . genteel poverty among the descendants of a colonial Governor . well , that looked as if it had been a near miss . the poverty was here , all right . but it did n&apos;t seem as if there were a garden boy . Appleby rang the bell . or , rather , he went through the motion of doing this . but the bell-pull went limp in his hand . it might have been the limb of an infant corpse - he suddenly and ghoulishly thought - before rigor mortis set in . then he remembered a story of a man who had pulled at a broken bell like this so vigorously that yards of wire had shot out and strangled him . Veere House , he decided , did n&apos;t conduce to a healthy state of mind . he clenched his fist and knocked vigorously on the door . after a pause , he knocked again . there was every reason to suppose that the effect in the interior must be considerable . but nothing happened . perhaps he ought to begin shouting an injunction to open in the name of the law . but that was more in Parker &apos;s line . he tried the door and found that it was n&apos;t locked . so he opened it and walked in . trespass , perhaps . but not house-breaking or burglary . he was confirmed at once in his impression that here had been a dwelling of some elegance . in front of him was a circular hall of moderate dimensions , rising to a cupola and lantern , and clothed in a plain honeycoloured marble which was relieved by engaged pilasters in the same stone . ahead was an archway beyond which a branching staircase rose beneath a second cupola . on either side were open doorways , giving on large rooms . the hall was quite empty . it could have done with a vigorous wash down , but apart from this it retained the dignity of the day on which it was built . contrastingly , both the rooms leading off it gave an immediate impression of being disgraced . and the reason was obvious . not only were the carpets and curtains in the last stages of decay . the rooms were crowded - and crowded with junk . it would n&apos;t all be junk , indeed , if transported to a junk-shop . but it was junk here . Appleby concentrated on the room on his right . there was a further open door at the other side of it , through which it was possible to see part of another room beyond . this seemed to be crowded in the same way . and neither room was furnished with the slightest attempt at individual character or even specific function . there were beds and there were sideboards . there were desks which looked as if they had come from massive Victorian offices , and there were dressing-tables which looked as if they had come from penurious Victorian servants &apos; dormitories . the walls were covered with pictures - oils , water-colours and steel-engravings side by side . there were bags of golf-clubs and bundles of tennis-rackets . there was a vaulting horse and a croquet-box and a stuffed bear and a harmonium . and in the disposition of all these crowded objects there was only one principle to be observed . it was a principle , however , that struck Appleby as a notable one . nothing was entirely concealed behind anything else . in the minute which it took Appleby to absorb all this , Veere House was as soundless as the tomb . if the false Astarte were really here , it must surely be in the character of a sleeping beauty . in which case , Jimmy Heffer had certainly taken on the r&amp;ocirc;le of Prince Charming . but whether his plan for arousing the lady was at all moral - whether , indeed , they might n&apos;t both wake up to find themselves in gaol - was a different matter . anyway , they must now be hunted out . Appleby was about to address himself to this task when he became aware that the deathly stillness of the place had been broken . it had been broken by a light , firm tapping from - he judged - some distant part of the ground floor on which he stood . the tapping came nearer . you did n&apos;t have to remember treasure island and the blind pirate to be a little unnerved by it . Appleby , who had fought for his life in thieves &apos; kitchens almost as often as Sexton Blake , felt a momentary tingling of the scalp . and then - at the far end of the farther room at which he had been glancing - the occasion of the tapping appeared . it was an old woman . she came from the shadow of some remoter corridor into a shaft of afternoon sunshine falling through the farthest of a series of windows which extended between Appleby and herself . as she did so , the sound of her stick - for the tapping did proceed from a stick - was muted but still irrationally alarming . she had passed from a tiled floor to a carpeted one . it was a quick tapping - so that it suggested itself as indeed produced by a blind person rather than a lame one . but this was delusive . the old woman had eyes that could see . that she was using them was almost the first impression you had of her . she was advancing towards Appleby with her head turned steadily to her left . her stick was in her right hand . with her left hand - its index-finger extended - she was making spasmodic but purposeful movements as she advanced . she was very old . she was in black . the black was relieved by a white collar and a white cap . and this , of course , was what made her uncanny - uncanny as she advanced through this decorous house , a house of the kind in which the successors of Sir Christopher Wren had tactfully refined upon the Dutch taste of William and Mary . the old woman was like an old woman by Rembrandt . that was it . of course it did n&apos;t make sense . Mrs Kipper was not , presumably , a Kipper . very probably she had been a Miss Smith or a Miss Jones . but perhaps she had grown into the place &amp;hellip; . now she had passed into the shadow between two windows - and now she was in clear faint sunlight again . she was nearer . and she was n&apos;t - Appleby saw - a Rembrandt , after all . she was just a Frans Hals . she had n&apos;t - that was to say - grown out of the flesh with age . she was an ordinary acquisitive old woman . but no - she was n&apos;t quite ordinary , either . she was behaving in too extraordinary a way . for he could see , now , what that left index-finger was doing . it was ticking things off . it was ticking off all those rubbishing material possessions , no one among which quite concealed any other . the pathological old miser - for that , of course , was what she was - advanced steadily towards Appleby . she looked at him , and frowned . he ought not to have been there to be counted . she stopped , and spoke sharply . young man , she said , are you Richardson &apos;s clerk ? it certainly was n&apos;t that she was purblind . a glance from her eyes told you that she saw everything . so Appleby felt rejuvenated . whether he was a young man was , after all , a relative matter . on the other hand , he certainly was n&apos;t Richardson &apos;s clerk . so he had better say so . no , he replied . my name is Appleby , and I have come to call on your niece . you must forgive me for walking in . I seemed to have some difficulty with the bell at the front door . Mrs Kipper - as she must be presumed to be - ignored this . she had come to a halt for a moment , but now she walked on - crossing her elegant hall and entering the first of the rooms on its farther side . at the same time , she signed to Appleby to accompany her . she gave the impression of being prepared to listen to him , provided this did not distract her from the more important task of checking over her property . this still took place entirely on her left hand . no doubt there was going to be a return journey . I asked - Mrs Kipper said - because Richardson is in the house now . I heard his voice as he went upstairs . he has no business here . I have a good mind to turn him out of the place . is n&apos;t Mr Richardson your solicitor ? Appleby asked this very much at a venture . certainly not . my solicitor is Mr Wiggins of Gray &apos;s Inn . I went up to see him only a few days ago . Richardson is a local man , who did business for my late brother-in-law , Joseph Kipper . most mistakenly and unnecessarily , Joseph left a sum of money in trust for the education of my niece . Richardson administered it . but that is all over . the money has been spent and the trust discharged . the girl may send for him as she pleases . but he has n&apos;t a penny left to give her , all the same . unless out of his own pocket . your niece Astarte ? Mrs Kipper had now nearly reached the far end of the room . and she took time off the more serious business of her peregrination to look sharply at Appleby . Astarte ? stuff and nonsense ! my niece &apos;s name is plain Jane . plain Jane , I am told , is one of the loveliest girls in England . it was again in an experimental spirit that Appleby offered this . what it produced from Mrs Kipper was a cackle of highly disagreeable laughter . lovely ? all the more reason why she should marry Charles Onions . they will cancel each other out , so far as looks go . Mr Onions is a revoltingly ugly man . I see . and indeed Appleby was beginning to see what might be called the archetypal simplicity of the situation at Veere House . your niece has no wish to marry this revoltingly ugly man . but she is penniless . and he is the match that you design for her . you express it very clearly , Mrs Kipper said . and she walked on . the announcement , she said presently , would look well in the times - supposing one were to waste money in that way . 