It was April and John Moore was studying for an important examination. As the date of the exam came nearer, he decided to go somewhere and read by himself. He did not want the amusements of the seaside, or the beauties of the countryside. He decided to find a quiet, ordinary little town and work there undisturbed. He packed his suitcases with clothes and books. Then he looked in a railway timetable for a town that he did not know. He found one, and bought a ticket to go there. He did not tell anyone where he was going. After all, he did not want to be disturbed. That is how Moore arrived at Benchurch. It was a market town, and once a week it was quite busy for a few hours. The rest of the time it was a very quiet, sleepy little place. Moore spent his first night at the only hotel in the town. The landlady was very kind and helpful, but the hotel was not really quiet enough for him. The second day he started looking for a house to rent. There was only one place that he liked. It was more than quiet − it was deserted and very lonely. It was a big, old seventeenth−century house. It had tiny windows like a prison, and a high brick wall all round it. It would be hard to imagine a more unwelcoming place. But it suited Moore perfectly. He went to find the local lawyer, who was responsible for the house. Mr Carnford, the lawyer, was very happy to rent the house to him. `I'd be glad to let you have it free,' he said, `just to have somebody living in it again after all these years. It's been empty so long that people have spread a lot of foolish stories about it. You'll be able to prove that the stories are wrong.' Moore did not think it was necessary to ask the lawyer for more details of the `foolish stories'. He paid his rent, and Mr Carnford gave him the name of an old servant to look after him. He came away from the lawyer's office with the keys of the house in his pocket. He then went to Mrs Wood, the landlady of the hotel. `I'm renting a house for a few weeks,' he said. `Can you advise me about shopping, please? What do you think I shall need?' `Where are you going to stay, sir?' the landlady asked. Moore told her. She threw up her hands in horror. `Not the Judge's House!' she said, and she grew pale as she spoke. He asked her to tell him more about the house. `Why is it called the Judge's House?' he said, `and why doesn't anyone want to live in it?'