lewood was disappointed and with him disappointment was petulance.

"That is unlike you, Hubbard," he said, "for sometimes after I have been
deliberating for days over some curious and perplexing conundrum, you
have solved it the moment it has been put to you."

Hubbard drooped still lower. He began the droop as a bow of
acknowledgment but forgot to raise his head again.

"It is very good of you, sir," he said. He seemed oppressed by the
goodness of Mr. Hazlewood.

"Yet you are not clever, Hubbard! Not at all clever."

"No, sir. I know my place," returned the butler, and Mr. Hazlewood
continued with a little envy.

"You must have some wonderful gift of insight which guides you straight
to the inner meaning of things."

"It's just common-sense, sir," said Hubbard.

"But I haven't got it," cried Mr. Hazlewood. "How's that?"

"You don't need it, sir. You are a gentleman," Hubbard replied, and
carried the letters to the door. There, however, he stopped. "I beg your
pardon, sir," he said, "but a new parcel of _The Prison Walls_ has
arrived this morning. Shall I unpack it?"

Mr. Hazlewood frowned and scratched his ear.

"Well--er--no, Hubbard--no," he said with a trifle of discomfort. "I am
not sure indeed that _The Prison Walls_ is not almost one of my mistakes.
We all make mistakes, Hubbard. I think you shall burn that parcel,
Hubbard--somewhere where it won't be noticed."

"Certainly, sir," said Hubbard. "I'll burn it under the shadow of the
south wall."

Mr. Hazlewood looked up with a start. Was it possible that Hubbard was
poking fun at him? The mere notion was incredible and indeed Hubbard
shuffled with so much meekness from the room that Mr. Hazlewood dismissed
it. He went across the hall to the dining-room, where he found Henry
Thresk trifling with his breakfast. No embarrassment weighed upon Mr.
Hazlewood this morning. He effervesced with good-humour.

"I do not blame you, Mr. Thresk," he said, "for the side you took
yesterday afternoon. You were a stranger to us in this house. I
understand your position."

"I am not quite so sure, Mr. Hazlewood," said Thresk drily, "that I
understand yours. For my part I have not closed my eyes all night. You,
on the other hand, seem to have slept well."

"I did indeed," said Hazlewood. "I was relieved from a strain of
suspense under which I have been labouring for a month past. To have
refused my consent to Richard's marriage with Stella Ballantyne on no
other g