e was charmed by this view of the case, and remained talking
with Mr. Buxton until footsteps again were heard, and the two ladies
appeared, with Hubert with them, and a couple of men carrying each a tray
and the other necessaries he had asked for.

Mr. Buxton and the magistrate rose to meet the ladies and bowed.

"I cannot tell you," began their host elaborately, "what distress all
this affair has given me. I trust you will forgive any inconvenience you
may have suffered."

Both Isabel and Mary looked white and strained, but they responded
gallantly; and as the table was being prepared the four talked almost as
if there were no bitter suspense at three of their hearts at least. Mr.
Graves was nervous and uneasy, but did his utmost to propitiate Mary. At
last he was on the point of withdrawing, when Mr. Buxton entreated him to
sup with them.

"I must not," he said; "I am responsible for your property, Mr. Buxton."

"Then I understand that these ladies may come and go as they please?" he
asked carelessly.

"Certainly, sir."

"Then may I ask too the favour that you will place one of your own men at
the door who can conduct them to the house when they wish to go, and who
can remain and protect me too from any disturbance from either of the two
officious persons who were here just now?"

Mr. Graves, delighted at this restored confidence, promised to do so, and
took an elaborate leave; and the three sat down to supper; the door was
left open, and they could see through it the garden, over which veil
after veil of darkness was beginning to fall. The servants had lighted
two tapers, and the inside of the great room with its queer furniture of
targets and flower-pots was plainly visible to any walking outside. Once
or twice the figure of a man crossed the strip of light that lay across
the gravel.

It was a strange supper. They said innocent things to one another in a
tone loud enough for any to hear who cared to be listening, about the
annoyance of it all, the useless damage that had been done, the warmth of
the summer night, and the like, and spoke in low soundless sentences of
what was in all their hearts.

"That red-faced fellow," said Mary, "would be the better of some manners.
(He is in the passage below, I suppose.)"

"It is scarce an ennobling life--that of a manhunter," said Mr. Buxton.
("Yes. I am sure of it.")

"They have broken your little cupboard, I fear." said Mary again. ("Tell
me your plan, if you