had filled with gold--that I had returned to kill him in his
blindness!"

Captain Branscome bowed his head upon his hands. I saw Plinny--who
all this while had sat silent, content to listen--rise, her face
twitching, and put out a hand to touch the captain's shoulder.
I saw her hand hesitate as her sense of decorum overtook her pity and
seemed to reason with it. And with that I heard the noise of wheels
on the road.

"Hallo!"--Miss Belcher pricked up her ears. "Here's that nuisance
Jack Rogers turning up again!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE CONTENTS OF THE CORNER CUPBOARD.

Mr. Jack Rogers, as he pulled up by the porch and directed
me to stand by the young mare's head, wore a look of extreme
self-satisfaction. Beside him, also beaming, sat Mr. Goodfellow,
with the corner cupboard nursed between his knees.

"Capital news, lad!" announced Mr. Rogers, climbing down from the
tilbury. "The filly's pretty near dead-beat, though--must see to her
and cool her down before telling it. Now, then, Mr. Goodfellow, if
you'll hand out the cupboard. By the way, sonny, I hope Miss
Plinlimmon can give us breakfast. I'm as hungry as a hunter, for my
part, and deserve it, too, after a good night's work. With my
fol-de-rol, diddledy--" He started to hum, but checked himself
shamefacedly. "There I go again, and I beg your pardon! 'Tis the
most difficult thing in the world to me to behave myself in a house
of mourning."

Mr. Goodfellow by this time had clambered down, and was embracing the
corner cupboard as though he had parted from it for an age, instead
of for fifty seconds at the farthest.

"Carry it indoors, but don't open it till I'm ready," commanded Mr.
Rogers, stooping under the filly to loosen her belly-band.
"I'm a magistrate, remember, and these things must be done in order.
You come along with me, Harry; that is, if you have the key in your
pocket."

"I have, sir."

"Right! Then come along with me, and you'll be out of harm's way."

So, while Mr. Goodfellow carried the cupboard into the house, Mr.
Rogers and I attended to the filly.

This took, maybe, twenty minutes; but Mr. Rogers was a sportsman,
and thought of his horse before himself. Not till all was done,
and well done, did he announce again that he was devilish peckish;
nor did I take the measure of his meaning until, returning to the
breakfast-room where Mr. Goodfellow sat before a plate of bread and
cream, he helped himself to a mass of veal