He would find Gafferson, and probe this business to
the uttermost. If there was discoverable in the man's
manner or glance the least evidence of a malevolent
intention--he would know what to do. Ah, what was it
that he would do? He could not say, beyond that it would
be bad for Gafferson. He instinctively clenched the fists
in the pockets of his jacket as he quickened his pace.
Inside the congeries of glazed houses he was somewhat at sea.
It was still light enough to make one's way about in the
passages between the stagings, but he had no idea of the
general plan of the buildings, and it seemed to him that he
frequently got back to places he had traversed before.
There were two or three subordinate gardeners in or about
the houses, but upon reflection he forbore to question them.
He tried to assume an idly indifferent air as he
sauntered past, nodding almost imperceptible acknowledgment
of the forefingers they jerked upward in salutation.
He came at last upon a locked door, the key of which had
been removed. The fact vaguely surprised him, and he looked
with awakened interest through the panes of this door.
The air inside seemed slightly thickened--and then
his eye caught the flicker of a flame, straight ahead.
It was nothing but the fumigation of a house; the burning
spirits in the lamp underneath the brazier were filling
the structure with vapours fatal to all insect life.
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