“How are the pets this morning, after their night’s work?”
“Night’s work?” echoed Ned, who had entertained the mean suspicion that the vicar would not own to his nocturnal observations.
“Yes, I did a little bit of spying too last night,” answered Mr. Brander, who seemed to take a frank and boyish delight in an open and declared warfare with his neighbor. “How’s the leg this morning?”
Ned, who chose to think that the vicar might have prevented the injury to his limb if it had so pleased him, answered with a tone which was in marked contrast to the good humor of the other.
“It’ll do,” he said, shortly. “How’s your brother this morning?”
Again Mr. Brander seemed to take a buoyant pleasure in his antagonist’s cuteness.
“My brother is very well,” he said, smiling. “And I’m sure, whatever you may think, that he would be quite pleased to hear of your kind inquiries.”
“Well, we shall see about that,” said Ned. “Now, come, parson,” he went on, persuasively, “you might just as well confess what I know—that you rode over to St. Cuthbert’s this morning to put him on his guard against my tricks.”
“And may not one with good reason put an innocent man on his guard against an avowed enemy?”
“I am not your brother’s enemy, Mr. Brander. I am the enemy of the man who murdered my sister. It is you who are saying that they are one and the same.”