It was
true that Crosber was only one among several places within ten miles of
the market-town, and the strangers who had been driven from the White
Swan in March last might have gone to any one of those other localities.
His inquiries were not finished yet, however.
"There is an old house about a mile from here," he said to the girl; "a
house belonging to a farm, in the lane yonder that turns off by the Blue
Boar. Have you any notion to whom it belongs, or who lives there?"
"An old house in that lane across the way?" the girl said, reflecting.
"That's Golder's lane, and leads to Golder's-green. There's not many
houses there; it's rather a lonesome kind of place. Do you mean a big
old-fashioned house standing far back in a garden?"
"Yes; that must be the place I want to know about."
"It must be the Grange, surely. It was a gentleman's house once; but
there's only a bailiff lives there now. The farm belongs to some
gentleman down in Midlandshire, a baronet; I can't call to mind his name
at this moment, though I have heard it often enough. Mr. Carley's
daughter--Carley is the name of the bailiff at the Grange--comes here for
all they want."
Gilbert gave a little start at the name of Midlandshire. Lidford was in
Midlandshire. Was it not likely to be a Midlandshire man who had lent
Marian's husband his house?
"Do you know if these people at the Grange have had any one staying with
them lately--any lodgers?" he asked the girl.
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