the Night Watch

the Night Watch
The Nut Gatherers
The Painter's Honeymoon
the polish rider "Splendid," he said in a perfunctory manner. "Let's go inside the house and look at it."
"No," Alexander was insistent. "Someone's sure to interrupt. Come to the harness room. We'll guide you."
Somewhat unwillingly, Craddock allowed himself to be guided round the corner of the house and along to the stable yard. Stoddart-West pushed open a heavy door, stretched up, and turned on a rather feeble electric light. The harness room, once the acme of Victorian spit and polish, was now the sad repository of everything that no one wanted. Broken garden chairs, rusted old garden implements, a vast decrepit mowing-machine, rusted spring mattresses, hammocks, and disintegrated tennis nets.
"We come here a good deal," said Alexander. "One can really be private here."