Tait read the anonymous communication, pondered over it, and finally delivered his opinion by uttering a name. "Hilliston," he said confidently, "Hilliston."
"Nonsense!" said Claude sharply; "why should he deal in underhand ways of this sort. If he wanted me to go away, he could have called and urged me to do so. But this—I don't believe Hilliston would condescend to such trickery."
"When a man is in a fix he will descend to anything to get himself out of it," replied Tait, placing the paper in his pocketbook. "I'll keep this, and, perhaps, before many days are over I'll have an opportunity of proving to you that I speak truly. Who else wants you to go away besides Hilliston."
"Kerry—Denis Bantry might!"
"I doubt whether Kerry knows that you are here. You must give matters time to develop themselves, as the inmates of Rose Cottage can't know all about us within twenty-four hours."
"What between your confessions to Jenny, and Hilliston's own knowledge, I think they'll know a good deal in one way or another."
"They can know as much as they like," said Tait quietly, "but we know more, and if it comes to a tug of war I think you and I can win against Hilliston and Co. But come outside and let us examine the top of the wall."
"Do you think the stone was thrown from there?" asked Claude, as they went out into the garden.
"I fancy so from your description. Light this candle."
The night was so still that the flame of the candle hardly wavered. Tait gave it to Claude to hold, and easily climbed up the wall by thrusting the toes of his boots in among the loose stones. He examined the top carefully, and then getting the light tied it to a piece of string and lowered it on the other side. In a few minutes he came down again with a satisfied look.