It was to the house of one of the local justices of the peace that she was being taken. The cab soon took a turning to the right, and presently arrived at the lodge-gates of Horne Park.
Horne Court was a large building, brand-new and many-gabled, built of brilliant red brick. It had so many little turrets and towers and steeples springing out from the main edifice in all directions, that it looked like a puzzle, and set the onlooker wondering whether one could get from one portion of the building to the other without the aid of a plan.
It was in the study—an oddly shaped apartment, with an imposing gallery filled with books—that Nell was brought before the local magistrate.
Sir Neville Bax was a bland and imperious gentleman, with a loud voice and a dominant manner, who, having married the ugliest woman in the county, sought to palliate this misdeed by posing as a great admirer of the rest of the sex. He stared at Nell with an approving eye.
“Well, Miss Claris, and so I hear you have a statement to make to me?” he began in a benevolent tone which made Nell wince.
Nell did not immediately answer.
“Well, don’t be afraid. Only speak out and speak the truth. It’s the best way—in fact, it’s the only way—when, as I understand, the police know so much already.”
Nell shivered.
“I understand,” continued he, “that you have some important information to give concerning the robbery at your uncle’s inn, the Blue Lion?”
“It’s only a very little thing that I know,” pleaded Nell.