“You do not believe me?” I said, piteously.
“Believe you? Why not?” he said, rousing himself from his musing. “Of course I believe you, Mayne, and so will my brother. He ought not to have doubted you. Ah, here he comes back.”
I felt a curious shrinking as I saw Mr Raydon coming across the enclosure; and as he entered there was the stern severe look in his countenance which he put on when he was angry.
“I came to fetch you back, John,” he said quietly. Then turning to me, “May I know the cause of the disgraceful scene that was taking place a little while ago?”
“Yes,” cried Mr John, instituting himself as my champion directly. “It seems that you have had unjust suspicions of my young friend Mayne, and that his companion shared them. Mayne could not turn and thrash you, but he could young Dean, and he did.”
Mr Raydon looked at me sharply.
“You may take his word for it,” continued Mr John, “as I do. There has been a mistake.”
“You have not altered a bit, John,” said Mr Raydon drily. “Come.”
“Yes, I’ll go back with you, for there is so much to say. Come, Mayne.”
I saw Mr Raydon raise his brows a little, and that was enough.