Death of a Viewer
At one of them he stopped. As he did so the occupant, a big and certainly able-bodied man, came out.
"Major Bennion," he boomed. "Pleasure to see you here. An unusual pleasure if I may say so."
"I came to see you," Roger said.
"I am honoured. Come inside."
Roger followed him into a pleasant room that served as sitting-room and study. Meals were generally eaten in the neat, little kitchen behind it. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
"Sit down, Major Bennion. What can I do for you?"
"Do you know a man named Daniel Floss?"
"Old Dan, my father's gardener?"
"I believe so."
"Of course I know him," was the hearty reply. "An excellent fellow, though I fear his gardening days are done. Crippled with arthritis. Getting on in years, too."
"So I understand. His wife is a decent woman?"
"Excellent, excellent. I believe she still helps sometimes in the house."
"They have been