But, Lord bless
you!" said the officer with good-humored contempt, "you might
as well have tried with a child's squirt. As you see, sir,
everything is gone within the wall. Leastways, all but that
big oak near the wall."
It was as the man said. House, trees, shrubs, even the grass
had been swept away by the fierce flames. Within the walls
which had secluded the place from the world was a blackened
space covered with debris. Where the house had stood was a
mound of twisted iron girders, charred beams and broken
slates. And everywhere the wind was lifting the fine gray
ashes and scattering them abroad, as though in sorrow for the
destruction of the previous night. Jennings took all this in
at a glance. Policemen were on guard at the various gaps in
the wall, as no one was allowed to enter. But the detective,
by virtue of his office, walked across the bare expanse with
the inspector, and trod under foot the black ashes. There was
nothing to be gained, however, by this inspection. All that
could be seen were the destroyed park and the mound where the
house had been. "What of the cellars?" asked Jennings.
"Well," said Inspector Twining genially, "I suppose there are
cellars, but there's nothing in them. The house was shut up
for years by a queer nobleman."
"By Lord Caranby," replied the detective. "I know. I suppose
the cellars are under that heap. I must get Lord Caranby to
allow me to clear it away.
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