ed a question to Grinsell.
Desmond waited a moment; he felt an odd eagerness to know what Governor
Pitt was; but hearing now only the drone of talking, he once more turned
his face homeward. His curiosity was livelier than ever as to the
identity of this newcomer, who addressed the landlord as he might his own
familiar friend.

And what had the stranger to do with Sir Willoughby Stokes? For it was
Sir Willoughby that suffered from the gout; he it was that went every
autumn and spring to Buxton; he was away at this present time, but would
shortly return to receive his Michaelmas rents. The stranger had not the
air of a husbandman; but there was a vacant farm on the estate; perhaps
he had come to offer himself as a tenant.

And why did he wear that half glove upon his right hand? Finger stalls,
wrist straps, even mittens were common enough, useful, and necessary at
times; but the stranger's glove was not a mitten, and it had no fellow
for the left hand. Perhaps, thought Desmond, it was a freak of the
wearer's, on a par with his red feather and his vivid neckcloth. Desmond,
as he walked on, found himself hoping that the visitor at the Four Alls
would remain for a day or two.

After passing through the sleeping hamlet of Woods Eaves, he struck into
a road on his left hand. Twenty minutes' steady plodding uphill brought
him in sight of his home--a large, ancient, rambling grange house lying
back from the road. It was now nearly ten o'clock, an hour when the
household was usually abed; but the door of Wilcote Grange stood open,
and a guarded candle in the hall threw a faint yellow light upon the
path. The gravel crunched under Desmond's boots, and, as if summoned by
the sound, a tall figure crossed the hall and stood in the entrance. At
the sight Desmond's mouth set hard; his hands clenched; his breath came
more quickly as he went forward.

"Where have you been, sirrah?" were the angry words that greeted him.

"Into the town, sir," returned Desmond.

He had perforce to halt, the doorway being barred by the man's broad
form.

"Into the town? You defy me, do you? Did I not bid you remain at home and
make up the stock book?"

"I did that before I left."

"You did, did you? I lay my life 'tis ill done. What did you in the town
this time o' night?"

"I went to see General Clive."

"Indeed! You! Hang me, what's Clive to you? Was you invited to the
regale? You was one of that stinking crowd, I suppose, that bawled