CHAPTER IX

ONE POINT IS MADE CLEAR CALDECOTT was, I found, a very out-of-the-way little place. The pretty village of Rockingham, with its long, broad street leading up the hill and the old castle crowning it, was its nearest neighbour, for at that station I alighted from the train and walked through the noonday heat along the short, shadeless road pointed out by the railway porter. The country in that district is of park-like aspect, mostly rich pastures with spinneys here and there, and running brooks; but on that blazing su…