He had just time to dress for dinner before his guest arrived. Knowing that Mr. Phelps was dainty in his eating, Mrs. Hester had prepared a meal such as the good Rector loved. Alan's wine was of the best, and he did not stint it, so Mr. Phelps addressed himself to the solemn business of dinner, with the conviction that he would enjoy himself; and Alan kept his news to himself until they were in the smoking-room. Then, when his guest was sipping aromatic black coffee and inhaling the fragrance of an excellent cigar, the young Squire felt compelled to speak, and exploded his bombshell without further notice.
"Mr. Phelps, I have unpleasant news," he said, filling his pipe.
The clergyman looked piteously at the excellent cigar, and took another sip of the coffee.
"Oh, Alan, my boy, must you?"
"You can judge for yourself," replied Alan, unable to suppress a smile. "Sophy had a visitor to-day."
"Indeed! Any one connected with these mysteries which so perplex us?"
"In one way, yes; in another, no. He is a Captain Lestrange."
"Lestrange! Lestrange!" repeated the Rector. "I don't know the name. Who is he?"
"Sophy's father!" said Alan simply, and lighted up, while Mr. Phelps remonstrated:
"My dear Alan, if this is a jest----"