"Does he know that you are Diabella?" interrupted Vernon quickly.
"No, he doesn't. I met him before I went into the tent to do business. He asked me why I had not gone to Yorkshire, and when I explained he asked me down here. I came last night and remained the night. It's all fair, square, and above-board with me."
"That's a lie," said Vernon impulsively, "and Hest told me another one at the bazaar. He could not have seen you between the time I parted from him and came to you when you were masquerading as Diabella, yet he told me that he had received a letter from his sister saying you were in Yorkshire. And you didn't come down here, I take it, to talk Shakespeare and musical glasses. There is something between you and this man Hest, and between you and Professor Gail, no doubt."
Maunders rose suddenly and spoke with great earnestness. "I assure you that Gail knows nothing more than that Hest asked me to stay as his guest. He will be here soon, and I beg of you to say nothing to him of what you have discovered. I shall explain everything to your satisfaction before you leave this house."
"On that condition," said Vernon, making a sign that Towton should be silent, "we will say nothing to the Professor. I believe I hear footsteps, so no doubt he is coming." Vernon moved away from the door. "If you try to escape, Maunders, I'll break your leg with a bullet," and he pulled out a neat revolver which he kept concealed in his hip pocket.
"Rather melodramatic," sneered Maunders with a shrug; "However, you need not be afraid. I'll sit here quietly enough."
"You have more cause to be afraid than I have. Hush! Here is the Professor coming," and as he spoke the door opened to admit the old actor. "Mr. Maunders has just come in to keep us company while we wait for Mr. Hest," said Vernon in an easy tone.
"Yes," said Maunders, who by this time had recovered his composure. "We are old friends and have much to talk about, so don't let us keep you from your afternoon sleep, Professor."
"If you will not think me lacking in courtesy," said Gail in his stately manner, "I shall certainly retire. The brain," he tapped his forehead, "needs rest, and I have invariably found that sleep, as Shakespeare says, 'knits up the ravelled sleeve of care.' Wil you have any refreshment, gentlemen?"
"No, thank you," replied Vernon politely; "but it is growing dark, so perhaps you will order lights."