is hat, exposing a high,
baldish head. His face was dark, and he began to mutter to himself.
Finally, he spoke articulately.

"Am I never to be rid of that scamp?" he said, shaking his fist at the
sky. "I have lived in Italy--in exile, so that I should not be troubled
with his schemes and rascalities. I have buried myself here, with my
daughter and those three who are faithful to me, in order that he may
not find me out. And now I hear of him. That woman. She is a spy of his.
I believe she came here from him with a made-up story. Walter will come,
and then I'll have to buy him off. I shall be glad to do so. But to be
blackmailed by that reptile. No! I'll go back to Florence first." He
replaced his hat and began to dig his stick in the ground. "I wonder if
Morley would help me. He is a shrewd man. He might advise me how to deal
with this wretched brother of mine. If I could only trust him?" He
looked round. "I wonder where he is? He promised to meet me half an hour
ago." Here Franklin glanced at his watch. "I'll walk over to The Elms
and ask who this woman, Mrs. Benker, is. He may know."

All this was delivered audibly and at intervals. Giles was not
astonished, as he knew from Mrs. Parry that the man was in the habit of
talking aloud to himself. But he was disappointed to receive such a
clear proof that Franklin was not the man who had eloped with Anne. Even
if he had been deceiving Mrs. Benker (which was not to be thought of),
he would scarcely have spoken in soliloquy as he did if he had not been
the man he asserted himself to be. Giles, saying nothing to his
companion, watched Franklin in silence until he was out of sight, and
then rose to stretch his long legs, Morley, with a groan, followed his
example. It was he who spoke first.

"I am half dead with the cramp," said he, rubbing his stout leg, "just
like old times when I hid in a cupboard at Mother Meddlers, to hear
Black Bill give himself away over a burglary. Ay, and I nearly sneezed
that time, which would have cost me my life. I have been safe enough in
that summer-house--but the cramp--owch!"

"It seems I have been mistaken," was all Giles could say.

"So have I, so was Mrs. Benker. We are all in the same box. The man is
evidently very like his scamp of a brother."

"No doubt, Morley. But he isn't the brother himself."

"More's the pity, for Franklin's sake as well as our own. He seems to
hate his brother fairly and would be willing to give him up to th