goes on for to turn the old
Squire and Miss Ida out of the Castle, mayhap, sir, summut of that
sort will happen to you, for mark my word, sir, there's justice in the
world, sir, as mebbe you will find out. And now, sir, begging your
pardon, I'll wish you good-morning, and leave you to think on what
I've said," and he was gone.

"George!" called Mr. Quest after him, rising from his chair, "George!"
but George was out of hearing.

"Now what did he mean by that--what the devil did he mean?" said Mr.
Quest with a gasp as he sat down again. "Surely," he thought, "that
man cannot have got hold of anything about Edith. Impossible,
impossible; if he had he would have said more, he would not have
confined himself to hinting, that would take a cleverer man, he would
have shown his hand. He must have been speaking at random to frighten
me, I suppose. By heaven! what a thing it would be if he /had/ got
hold of something. Ruin! absolute ruin! I'll settle up this business
as soon as I can and leave the country; I can't stand the strain, it's
like having a sword over one's head. I've half a mind to leave it in
somebody else's hands and go at once. No, for that would look like
running away. It must be all rubbish; how could he know anything about
it?"

So shaken was he, however, that though he tried once and yet again, he
found it impossible to settle himself down to work till he had taken a
couple of glasses of sherry from the decanter in the cupboard. Even as
he did so he wondered if the shadow of the sword disturbed him so
much, how he would be affected if it ever was his lot to face the
glimmer of its naked blade.

No further letter came to Edward Cossey from the Castle, but,
impatient as he was to do so, another fortnight elapsed before he was
able to see Ida and her father. At last one fine December morning for
the first time since his accident he was allowed to take carriage
exercise, and his first drive was to Honham Castle.

When the Squire, who was sitting in the vestibule writing letters, saw
a poor pallid man, rolled up in fur, with a white face scarred with
shot marks and black rings round his large dark eyes, being helped
from a closed carriage, he did not know who it was, and called to Ida,
who was passing along the passage, to tell him.

Of course she recognised her admirer instantly, and wished to leave
the room, but her father prevented her.

"You got into this mess," he said, forgetting how and for whom she