s suitable
entertainment with gin and cigars, and making an end of his dinner, drew
up a chair to the fire opposite his visitor.

"You are upset, Mr. Chatfield?" he remarked. "Now, why?"

Chatfield sipped his gin and water, and flourished a cigar with a
comprehensive wave of his big fat hand.

"Oh, in general, sir!" he said. "Things like this here are not pleasant
to have in a quiet, respectable community like ours. There's very wicked
people in this world, mister, and they will not control what's termed the
unruly member. They will talk. You'll excuse me, but I doubt not that I'm
a good deal more than twice your age, and I've learnt experience. My
experience, sir, is that a wise man holds his tongue until he's called
upon to use it. Now, in my opinion, it was a very unwise thing of yon
there sea-going man, Ewbank, to say that this unfortunate play-actor told
him that he'd met our Squire in America--very unfortunate!"

Copplestone pricked his ears. Had the estate agent come there to tell him
that? And if so, why?

"Oh!" he said. "You've heard that, have you? Now who told you that, Mr.
Chatfield? For I don't think that's generally known."

"If you knew this here village, mister, as well as what I do," replied
Chatfield coolly, "you'd know that there is known all over the place by
this time. The constable told me, and of course yon there man, Ewbank,
he'll have told it all round since he had that bit of talk with you and
your friend. He'll have been in to every public there is in Scarhaven,
repeating of it. And a very, very serious complexion, of course, could be
put on them words, sir."

"How?" asked Copplestone.

"Put it to yourself, sir," replied Chatfield. "The unfortunate man comes
here, tells Ewbank he knew Mr. Greyle in that far-away land, says he'll
call on him, is seen going towards the big house--and is never seen no
more! Why, sir, what does human nature--which is wicked--say?"

"What does your human nature--which I'm sure is not wicked, say?"
suggested Copplestone. "Come, now!"

"What I say, sir, is neither here nor there," answered the agent. "It's
what evil-disposed tongues says."

"But they haven't said anything yet," said Copplestone.

"I should say they've said a deal, sir," responded Chatfield,
lugubriously. "I know Scarhaven tongues. They'll have thrown out a deal
of suspicious talk about the Squire."

"Have you seen Mr. Greyle?" asked Copplestone. He was already sure that
the agent was