he old wall is down, I see," Dominey remarked with a frown, as
he gazed towards the enclosed kitchen garden.

Mr. Mangan was momentarily surprised.

"That wall has been down, to my knowledge, for twenty years," he
reminded his companion.

Dominey nodded. "I had forgotten," he muttered.

"We wrote you, by the by," the lawyer continued, "suggesting the sale
of one or two of the pictures, to form a fund for repairs, but thank
goodness you didn't reply! We'll have some workpeople here as soon as
you've decided what you'd like done. I'm afraid," he added, as they
turned in through some iron gates and entered the last sweep in front of
the house, "you won't find many familiar faces to welcome you.
There's Loveybond, the gardener, whom you would scarcely remember, and
Middleton, the head keeper, who has really been a godsend so far as the
game is concerned. No one at all indoors, except--Mrs. Unthank."

The car drew up at that moment in front of the great porch. There was
nothing in the shape of a reception. They had even to ring the bell
before the door was opened by a manservant sent down a few days
previously from town. In the background, wearing a brown velveteen coat,
with breeches and leggings of corduroy, stood an elderly man with white
side whiskers and skin as brown as a piece of parchment, leaning heavily
upon a long ash stick. Half a dozen maidservants, new importations, were
visible in the background, and a second man was taking possession of the
luggage. Mr. Mangan took charge of the proceedings.

"Middleton," he said, resting his hand upon the old man's shoulder,
"here's your master come back again. Sir Everard was very pleased to
hear that you were still here; and you, Loveybond."

The old man grasped the hand which Dominey stretched out with both of
his.

"I'm right glad you're back again, Squire," he said, looking at him with
curious intentness, "and yet the words of welcome stick in my throat."

"Sorry you feel like that about it, Middleton," Dominey said pleasantly.
"What is the trouble about my coming back?"

"That's no trouble, Squire," the old man replied. "That's a
joy--leastways to us. It's what it may turn out to be for you which
makes one hold back like."

Dominey drew himself more than ever erect--a commanding figure in the
little group.

"You will feel better about it when we have had a day or two with the
pheasants, Middleton," he said reassuringly. "You have not changed much,
Loveyb