"Oh!" said Jenny composedly, when the vehicle had vanished, "there is our new Lord of the Manor, Mr. Tait."
"Why, those are the two fellows who questioned me about my story!" cried Linton.
"Are they? Yes, you mentioned the name of Tait," said Jenny quietly; "but what does it matter? What a fuss you make over nothing."
"Jenny," said Linton solemnly, "there is going to be trouble over that story."
Miss Paynton stared at him in surprise, then pointed an accusing finger at him.
"Francis Linton," she said slowly, "you are a silly fool. If ever I help you again in your writing, I give you leave to marry me."
Then she ran away and left him dumfounded in the market place. But she was by no means so light-hearted as she appeared to be. Kerry's anger, the questions of the two strangers, made her feel uneasy, and she thought it would have been better had she left the provincial newspapers in the garret. But Fate decided otherwise, and Jenny Paynton, though she knew it not, was an unconscious instrument to revive interest in a forgotten case, to solve a mystery of five-and-twenty years, and to bring an unknown criminal to justice. Life is a chess board, we are the puppets, and Fate plays the game.