Fancy his coming to live so near to us as that! We saw him in the train just now.
He's here for the holiday." "I ought to tell you," continued Mr.Vance, turning to Diggory, "that our next-door neighbour is called 'The Hermit.' He's a queer old fellow, who lives by himself, and never makes friends or speaks to any one.

He's supposed to be very clever, and I've heard it said that he's got a very valuable collection of coins, and is quite an authority on the subject; it's one of his hobbies." "I suppose," said Mugford thoughtfully, "that as he's a hermit that's why his place is called The Hermitage." "Well done, Mug!" said Jack, speaking with his mouth pretty full; "you're getting quite sharp." "Yes, that's it," continued Mr.Vance, laughing.

"The old man's away from home just now; he was suffering from rheumatism very badly, and the doctor ordered him to a course of treatment at some baths." The conversation turned on other topics, and when at length they rose from the table, Jack proposed a stroll round the garden.
There were many things to see--some pet rabbits, a swing, and an old summer-house, which Jack, being, we should say, of a decidedly nautical turn of mind, had turned into a sort of miniature shipbuilding yard for the construction of model vessels; though at present the chief use to which the place seemed to have been put was the production of a great amount of chips and shavings.
"I say," exclaimed the owner, after he and his friends had amused themselves for some time boring holes in the door with a brace, "I know what we'll do: let's go over and explore The Hermitage!" Anything with a spice of excitement in it was meat and drink to Diggory.
He immediately seconded the proposition, and Mugford, after a moment's hesitation, agreed to join his companions in the enterprise.
They strolled off down the path, and soon reached a long stretch of brick wall, the top of which was thickly covered with fragments of broken bottles.
"There's a place down at the other end where we can get over," said Jack.

"I smashed the glass with a hammer, because I lost a ball and had to climb over and get it, one day last holidays." The Hermitage was surrounded on all sides by a thick mass of shrubs and trees, through which a moment later the Triple Alliance were cautiously threading their way.

Emerging from the bushes, they found themselves standing on a gravel path, green with moss and weeds, which ran round the house--a queer, dilapidated-looking building, which seemed sadly in want of repair: the plaster was cracked and discoloured, while the doors and windows had long stood in need of a fresh coating of paint.
"I say," whispered Mugford, "hadn't we better go back?
what if the old chap's at home!" "Oh, it's all right; there's nobody about," answered Jack.