"We are in the environs of the little town of ----," replied his companion; "and by the road about seven miles from Morley House. I saw that this little place was to be let, as I passed by one day, immediately after my return, and took it at once, on various accounts, although I did not know how much it might prove of use to poor De Vaux. And now, Manners, to your rest; for, although I am a late watcher, you look fatigued, and are in need of repose."
"I am somewhat fatigued," answered Manners, "although I have not had any very great cause; but the fact is, the mind is sometimes like a hard rider, and knocks up the body before it is aware. I have been all this morning either with Lord Dewry, examining a gipsy boy--taken last night in a sad deer-stealing affray at Dimden--in order to ascertain whether I could discover poor De Vaux, or pursuing somewhat fiercely your friend Pharold, against whom, by-the-way, warrants have been issued on three different charges."
"On three charges, did you say?" demanded Sir William Ryder: "on three! He only mentioned directly one charge against himself, that of having murdered this poor lad, which must now, of course, fall to the ground."
"The other charges were," answered Manners, "first, that he had been engaged in the deer-stealing, wherein, I am sorry to say, blood was spilt--but in regard to that I pointed out to him a means of proving his innocence; and, secondly, that many years ago he was either a principal or an accessary in the murder of the late Lord Dewry, who was killed by some unknown person at a spot not far from Morley House."
It would be difficult to describe the effect that these few words produced upon the countenance of Sir William Ryder. His eye flashed, his brows contracted, and he bit his lip hard, till at length some feeling of contempt seemed to master the rest, and his emotion ended in a bitter and a meaning laugh. "And pray," he asked, "who is it that has brought this last charge against him?"
"None other than the brother of the murdered man, Lord Dewry," answered Manners: "he says he has proofs of the gipsy's guilt."
"They have been long in manufacturing!" answered Sir William Ryder, sternly: "I will tell you more, Manners,--as there is a God of heaven, the gipsy is innocent, and he shall be proved so, let the bolt light where it may. Proofs! Out upon him! Falsehoods and villany! But he shall learn better; for I will not stand by and see the innocent oppressed, for any remembrances that memory can call up."
"You speak more harshly than ever I heard you, my dear Sir William," answered Manners; "but perhaps you have cause which I do not know of, and into which I certainly shall not pry. However, this nobleman is, as you know, De Vaux's father, and, ere we part for the night, you must tell me how I am to act towards him; for the gipsy stipulated that I was to tell him nothing concerning his son's situation, without your consent. May I tell him where De Vaux is, and under whose care?"
Sir William Ryder paused, and he thought for several moments, with the same bitter smile which Manners's information had called up still hanging upon his lip. "Yes," he said at length--"yes, you may tell him where his son is; and you may tell him to come and see him and me as speedily as he thinks fit: but call me still Mr. Harley, for there might be something unpleasant to his ears in the name of William Ryder, which might prevent his coming. Say that Mr. Harley, the old gentleman to whose house De Vaux was conveyed after the accident he met with, will be happy to see him at any time he may name."
"I am most delighted to have your permission so to do," answered Manners; "for, to tell the truth, it would have placed me in rather an awkward position in regard to Lord Dewry, had you refused to let me give him full tidings of his son."