First you must hear a piece of old history. Long ago, when the addle-pated Lord Orris first began to borrow from the moneylenders, he had pledged a portion of his estate to some City financiers who had already bought up a good deal of land on the other side of Brensham Hill. Subsequently he had increased his borrowings and pledged still more of his land; until at last only the dilapidated mansion was left and he raised his ultimate loan on that. Meanwhile the clever financiers watched and waited, and when they thought that the time was ripe they foreclosed on their mortgages and took possession of the property. It wasn’t a very valuable property; for the house through years of neglect had become draughty and damp, the wasted land grew just enough coarse grass to support its unparalleled population of rabbits, the muddy Moat had breached its banks and turned the garden into a snipe-marsh, and even the spinneys and copses had been despoiled for firewood by the gypsyish families in tents and caravans whom the Mad Lord had permitted to camp upon his Park.
