"There are fellows about," said Flory.
"What fellows?"
"The very fellows that said they'd kill me. Do you know that fellow Lax? He's the worst of them."
"But he doesn't live here."
"All the same, I saw him yesterday."
"You were out then, yesterday?"
"Not to say out," said Flory. "I was in the orchard just behind the stables; and I could see across into the ten-acre piece. There, at the further side of the field, I saw a fellow, who I am sure was Lax. Nobody walks like him, he's got that quick, suspicious way of going. It was just nearly dark; it was well-nigh seven, and I had been with Peter in the stables, helping to make up the horses, and I am sure it was Lax."
"He won't come near you and me on the broad walk," said Frank.
"Won't he? You don't know him. There are half-a-dozen places there where he could hit us from behind the wall. Come up into your room, and I'll tell you what it is that makes papa unhappy." Then Frank led the way upstairs to his bedroom, and Florian followed him. When inside he shut the door, and seated himself on the bed close to his brother. "Now I'll tell you," said he.
"What is it ails him?"