"The deuce you have!" cried Vane, turning from his friend to Gwen. "And what do you think of the matter, Miss Evans?"
"I don't know what to think," said Gwen promptly. "Save that I believe Owain to be innocent, and I will stand by him to the end, whatever it may be."
"Good. And the accusation of Madame----"
"Jim," commanded his aunt sharply, "do hold your tongue. This is not the time to begin a discussion. To-morrow, when our wits are clearer, we can talk. Owain, go home to bed. Jim and I will turn our backs while you take leave of Gwen."
This was not necessary, as Gwen accompanied her lover to the door and kisses were exchanged in the twilight of the summer night. But the two were so long in parting that Mrs. Perage had to come on the scene and fairly shut the door in the face of this lingering lover. Hench went away, feeling that the sun had vanished from the sky, which was exactly what the sun should do considering the time. He sauntered home leisurely, thinking of Gwen and picturing his future life with her. By the time he reached Mrs. Bell's cottage it was striking ten from the church tower, and he entered the house yawning with the intention of going at once to bed. There he could dream of Gwen.
But Owain did not get to his repose so speedily as he expected, for he found a visitor sitting in his parlour--and not a visitor he was exactly pleased to see. From an armchair rose the smartly dressed figure of Mr. Cuthbert Spruce, who smiled amiably when he saw the astonished look on the face of his host. Hench frowned, very ill-pleased.
"What the deuce are you doing here, Spruce?" he demanded sharply.
"I have come to have a serious talk with you," said the Nut coolly, and resumed his seat with the air of a man determined to stay where he was.
"Then you can clear out and come to-morrow, my friend. I am much too tired to talk just now." Hench glanced at his watch. "There is a train at a quarter to eleven which you can catch."
"I am not going back to town this evening, Hench."