What did it all mean? Beatrice asked herself that question again and again, but without receiving any answer. But for her overwhelming love, she would have hesitated to step forward in the dark, as she really was doing when consenting to this marriage. But she felt that Vivian needed her aid, and that only when they were man and wife would that aid be of any real service. She made no attempt to continue the conversation when they met again in the drawing-room, nor did she seek out the old servant to ask questions. But since Vivian hinted that by her own unaided efforts she might arrive at the truth, whatever it might be, she determined to search on. In one way or another she was resolved with all the force of her strong nature to put an end to these provoking mysteries.
It was for this reason that the next morning found her climbing the Downs. Vivian had gone with Dinah into Brighton, and Beatrice, alleging the death of her stepfather as a reason for retirement, had remained at home. In reality, she wanted to trace out Orchard the ex-butler, who had turned shepherd, and whom Mrs. Lilly had told her of. From that elderly dame Beatrice obtained the information that Orchard lived on the Downs in a little wooden hut, like the savage maid in the popular song, and having gained a fair notion of its whereabouts, she set out to seek the man. He had been in the house at the time of Colonel Hall's murder, and apparently had seen something. Had he not done so, his nerves certainly would not have been so shattered as to make him give up the comfortable profession of a butler for the hard life of a shepherd. Certainly he might refuse to speak out, as he assuredly had not told the police anything likely to lead to the discovery of Colonel Hall's assassin. But Beatrice had great faith in her woman's wiles and in the power of her tongue to get what she wanted. It was the sole way in which she could do so, as she had no money wherewith to tempt the old man. But then so patriarchal a person might be above bribery and corruption.
It was a divine day, and the breezes were blowing freshly across the spacious Downs from the distant Channel. Beatrice loved to look on these wide spaces of green, and to watch the sheep moving across the close-shorn turf, which they kept in such good order. A mile's walk brought her into the vicinity where Mrs. Lilly had informed her that Orchard watched his flock, and she speedily saw the hut, a tiny box of a house roofed with turf and standing on the Downs, without railing, or fence, or garden round it--just like a house that had lost its way.
Fate favoured her, and she took it as a good omen when she saw the old man seated at the door eating his midday meal. He was bent and white-headed, and had a long white beard. In fact, he might have passed for Father Christmas had he been appropriately dressed. His eyes were faded, blue and mild, and he seemed in no wise disturbed when she approached. "Good day, miss," said the ex-butler.
"Good day," responded Beatrice. "Will you let me sit down? I have been walking for some time."
"Certainly, miss," said Orchard, with the deference of a former indoor servant; "but the air will do you good. I suppose, miss, you are one of the gentry from Brighton? They often come up here to breathe the air and get appetites. Sit down, miss."
By this time he had brought out a stool, and Beatrice sat down with a weary air, for she really was tired. "I come from the Weald," she said, waving her hand towards the luxurious verdure of the valley below. "I live there."
"A very nice place, miss. I lived there once myself."
"At Convent Grange?" said Beatrice, glad to see that Orchard was disposed to be communicative.
He turned a mild look of surprise on her, and considered her face attentively. "Why, yes, miss," he replied, "although I don't know how you come to know that."