The Clocks
“It was called Diana Lodge. The gates had obstacles against intruders by being heavily wired on the inside. Rather melancholy speckled laurels, imperfectly trimmed, also interfered with the efforts of anyone to enter through the gate.
“If ever a house could have been called The Laurels, this one could,” remarked Colin Lamb. “Why call it Diana Lodge, I wonder?”
He looked round him appraisingly. Diana Lodge did not run to neatness or to flower beds. Tangled and overgrown shrubbery was its most sal...ient point together with a strong catty smell of ammonia. The house seemed in a rather tumbledown condition with gutters that could do with repairing. The only sign of any recent kind of attention being paid to it was a freshly painted front door whose colour of bright azure blue made the general unkempt appearance of the rest of the house and garden even more noticeable. There was no electric bell but a kind of handle that was clearly meant to be pulled. The inspector pulled it and a faint sound of remote jangling was heard inside.MoreLess
“If ever a house could have been called The Laurels, this one could,” remarked Colin Lamb. “Why call it Diana Lodge, I wonder?”
He looked round him appraisingly. Diana Lodge did not run to neatness or to flower beds. Tangled and overgrown shrubbery was its most sal...ient point together with a strong catty smell of ammonia. The house seemed in a rather tumbledown condition with gutters that could do with repairing. The only sign of any recent kind of attention being paid to it was a freshly painted front door whose colour of bright azure blue made the general unkempt appearance of the rest of the house and garden even more noticeable. There was no electric bell but a kind of handle that was clearly meant to be pulled. The inspector pulled it and a faint sound of remote jangling was heard inside.MoreLess
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