by name."

"Yes, sir,--Mr. Aston," said Mr. Moss, assuming an air of importance,
"and that is the boy himself."

"A good boy, I hope?" He bestowed on him one of those keen, sharp
glances Jim was beginning not to resent.

"Not bad as boys go," Mr. Moss answered dubiously, scratching his
chin, "but his bringing up has been against him. London, sir,--and
then tramping about the country for a year."

Jim regarded Mr. Aston anxiously to see how this somewhat negative
character struck him, but he was still looking at Jim and seemed to
pay small heed to Mr. Moss's words.

"We passed him on the road," he said; "I was struck by the likeness to
someone I knew, and I thought there could not be two boys so like in
Whitmansworth. You were master here when he was admitted?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Aston. It was in November last, on a Thursday night, I
remember, because service was on. The mother was clean exhausted, and
was taken to the infirmary at once and----"

Mr. Aston interposed.

"Christopher, go out and stay by the carriage till I call you, and ask
the gentleman--Mr. Stapleton--to come in here."

And James Christopher Hibbault obeyed without so much as a glance for
permission at Mr. Moss.

He delivered his message and then interviewed the groom, who seemed
used to waiting. The tea bell rang, but Jim, though hungry, never
thought of disobeying his orders. The hall porter came out and went
off on his bicycle and presently returned with Mr. Page, one of the
Board gentlemen.

The groom eventually grew communicative and told Jim the horses' names
were Castor and Pollux, and there wasn't their match in the country,
no more in all London, though to be sure Mr. Aston had some fine
horses at Marden Court.

"Is that where he lives?" inquired Jim.

It appeared he lived there sometimes, but Mr. Nevil,--Jim did not know
who that was--lived there mostly. Mr. Aston spent most of his time in
London with Mr. Aymer. They had left London the previous day, Jim
learnt, and had been driving to queer out-of-the-way places, always
stopping at Unions.

At which point the door opened and Mr. Aston came out, and with him
Mr. Page and Mr. and Mrs. Moss and Mr. Stapleton with a bundle of
papers in his hand, and all these people looked at Jim in a perplexed
way, except Mr. Aston, who appeared quite happy and unconcerned.

"Say good-bye to Mrs. Moss, Christopher," he said authoritatively.
"You are coming with me."

"Where to?" demanded the bo