KNOCKERontheoff-sidedoor。Whetheritwasapost-chaiseusedastool-house，summer-house，ordwelling-house，Icouldnotdiscover，fortherewasnobodyathomeatthepost-chaisewhenIknocked，butitwascertainlyusedforsomething，andlockedup。Inthewonderofthisdiscovery，Iwalkedroundandroundthepost-chaisemanytimes，andsatdownbythepost-chaise，waitingforfurtherelucidation。Nonecame。Atlast，ImademywaybacktotheoldLondonroadbythefurtherendoftheallotment-gardens，andconsequentlyatapointbeyondthatfromwhichIhaddiverged。I
hadtoscramblethroughahedgeanddownasteepbank，andInearlycamedowna-topofalittlesparemanwhosatbreakingstonesbytheroadside。
Hestayedhishammer，andsaid，regardingmemysteriouslythroughhisdarkgogglesofwire:
’Areyouaware，sir，thatyou’vebeentrespassing？’
’Iturnedoutoftheway，’saidI，inexplanation，’tolookatthatoddpost-chaise。Doyouhappentoknowanythingaboutit？’