Copplestone, who had eaten nothing for several hours, accepted her hospitable attentions with gratitude, and he was enjoying himself greatly in a quaint old-world parlour, in close proximity to a bright fire, when Mrs.Wooler entered with a countenance which betokened mystery in every feature.
"There's the estate agent, Mr.Chatfield, outside, very anxious to have a word with you about this affair," she said.

"Would you be for having him in?
He's the sort of man," she went on, sinking her tones to a whisper, "who must know everything that's going on, and, of course, having the position he has, he might be useful.

Mr.Peter Chatfield, Mr.Greyle's agent, and his uncle's before him--that's who he is--Peeping Peter, they call him hereabouts, because he's fond of knowing everybody's business." "Bring him in," said Copplestone.

He was by no means averse to having a companion, and Mrs.Wooler's graphic characterization had awakened his curiosity.

"Tell him I shall be glad to see him." Mrs.Wooler presently ushered in a figure which Copplestone's dramatic sense immediately seized on.