ven! Wild justice--if you like! I was in the
house yesterday afternoon," he added quietly, "just before the old man
died."

"You were?" cried Tatham, amazed. Yet he knew well that whenever Boden
came to recruit at Duddon, he spent half of his time among the fell-farms
and cottages. His mind was invincibly human, greedy of common life and
incident, whether in London or among the dales. He said little of his
experiences at Duddon; not a word, for instance, to Tatham or Victoria,
the night before, had revealed his own share in the old farmer's death
scene; but, casually, often, some story would drop out, some unsuspected
facts about their next-door neighbours, their very own people, which
would set Victoria and Tatham looking at each other, and wondering.

He turned now to walk beside Tatham's horse. His plain face with its
beautiful eyes, and lanky straying hair, spoke of a ruminating mind.

Tatham asked if there was any news from the railway.

"No trace so far, anywhere. All the main line stations have been closely
watched. But Marvell is of opinion that if young Brand had anything to do
with it he would certainly give the railway a wide berth. He is much more
likely to take to the fells. They tell the most extraordinary tales of
his knowledge of the mountains--especially in snow and wild weather. They
say that shepherds who have lost sheep constantly go to him for help!"

"--You know him?"

"I have talked to him sometimes. A queer sulky fellow with one or two
fixed ideas. He certainly hated Melrose. Whether he hated him enough to
murder him is another question. When I visited them, the mother told me
that Will had rushed out of the house the night before, because he could
not endure the sight of his father's sufferings. The jury I suppose will
have to know that. Well!--You were going on to Pengarth?"

Tatham assented. Boden paused, leaning on his bicycle.

"Take Threlfall on your way. I think Faversham would like to see you.
There are some strange things being said. Preposterous things! The hatred
is extraordinary."

The two men eyed each other gravely. Boden added:

"I have been telling your mother that I think I shall go over to
Threlfall for a bit, if Faversham will have me."

Tatham wondered again. Faversham, prosperous, had been, it seemed to him,
a special target for Boden's scorn, expressed with a fine range of
revolutionary epithet.

But calamity of any kind--for this queer saint--was apt to change