The Talking House's Deadly Secret

We were house-hunting to get married, and the agent, working from our budget, showed us a thirty-year-old dump.

Percy Harding blew up on the spot, said the guy was sizing us up and looking down on us.

All his buddies lived in big open-plan places, and he threatened that if I dared buy an old dump as our wedding home, we were through.

I was just about to smooth it over, say we'd keep looking, when an old, aged voice popped into my head:

"This boy's got no eye for value. I hid a hundred pounds of gold in that wall. Enough to buy ten of those big open-plan places!"