Bellward
apparently had none. The Mill House stood in a lonely part of the
country, remote from the more thickly populated centres of
Brentwood and Romford, on the edge of a wide tract of
inhospitable marshland, known as Morstead Fen, intersected by
those wide deep ditches which in this part of the world are known
as dykes. At this stage in the report there was a note to the
effect that the rector of Wentfield had called twice at The Mill
House but had not found Mr. Bellward at home, and that his visits
had not been returned. There were also some opinions apparently
culled locally regarding the tenant of the Mill House, set out
something in this wise:--
"Landlord of the Red Lion, Wentfield: The gentleman has never
been to the Red Lion, but sometimes orders my Ford car and always
pays regularly.
"The Stationmaster at Wentfield: A gentleman who keeps himself to
himself but very liberal with his money.
"Sir Marsham Dykes, of The Chase, Stanning: A damned unsociable
churlish fellow.
"Mr. Tracy Wentfield, of the Channings, Home Green: A very rude
man. He slammed the front door of the house in my face when I
went to ask him for a contribution to our Cottage Hospital. It is
not my habit to repeat idle gossip, but they do say he is a heavy
drinker.
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