though his visitor had
been fifty yards off instead of five. "I have been looking out for
you. Here, William! William!" (crescendo), "William!" (fortissimo),
"where on earth is the boy? I expect that idle fellow, George, has
been sending him on some of his errands instead of attending to them
himself. Whenever he is wanted to take a horse he is nowhere to be
found, and then it is 'Please, sir, Mr. George,' that's what he calls
him, 'Please, sir, Mr. George sent me up to the Moat Farm or somewhere
to see how many eggs the hens laid last week,' or something of the
sort. That's a very nice horse you have got there, by the way, very
nice indeed."

"It is not my horse, Mr. de la Molle," said the lawyer, with a faint
smile, "it is Mr. Edward Cossey's."

"Oh! it's Mr. Edward Cossey's, is it?" answered the old gentleman with
a sudden change of voice. "Ah, Mr. Edward Cossey's? Well, it's a very
good horse anyhow, and I suppose that Mr. Cossey can afford to buy
good horses."

Just then a faint cry of "Coming, sir, coming," was heard, and a long
hobble-de-hoy kind of youth, whose business it was to look after the
not extensive Castle stables, emerged in a great heat from round the
corner of the house.

"Now, where on earth have you been?" began the Squire, in a stentorian
tone.

"If you please, sir, Mr. George----"

"There, what did I tell you?" broke in the Squire. "Have I not told
you time after time that you are to mind your own business, and leave
'Mr. George' to mind his? Now take that horse round to the stables,
and see that it is properly fed.

"Come, Quest, come in. We have a quarter of an hour before luncheon,
and can get our business over," and he led the way through the passage
into the tapestried and panelled vestibule, where he took his stand
before the empty fireplace.

Mr. Quest followed him, stopping, ostensibly to admire a particularly
fine suit of armour which hung upon the wall, but really to gain
another moment for reflection.

"A beautiful suit of the early Stuart period, Mr. de la Molle," he
said; "I never saw a better."

"Yes, yes, that belonged to old Sir James, the one whom the Roundheads
shot."

"What! the Sir James who hid the treasure?"

"Yes. I was telling that story to our new neighbour, Colonel Quaritch,
last night--a very nice fellow, by the way; you should go and call
upon him."

"I wonder what he did with it," said Mr. Quest.

"Ah, so do I, and so will many another, I dare sa