"It all turns upon the bugler's movements," Challoner remarked.
"And he was killed. Mrs. Chudleigh's account presupposes that he was in one place, Clarke's in another, while I've tried to show you that he couldn't have been in either."
Challoner was silent for a time and Blake watched him anxiously until he looked up.
"I think you have succeeded, Dick, though I feel that with a trifling alteration here and there you could have cleared yourself. Now we'll let the painful matter drop for good, unless, indeed, some fresh light is ever thrown on it."
"That can't happen," Blake replied and added with a gleam of humour: "As a matter of fact, I'd sooner remain in friendly obscurity."
Challoner rose and laid a hand on his arm. "If you were once at fault, you have since shown yourself a man of honour. Though the thing hurt me at the time, I'm glad you are my nephew. Had there been any baseness in you, some suspicion must always have rested on your cousin. Well, we are neither of us sentimentalists, but I must say that you have amply made amends."
He turned away and Blake went out into the open air to walk up and down. The face of the old house rose above him, dark against the clear night sky; in front the great oaks in the park rolled back in shadowy masses. Blake, who loved Sandymere, had thought of it often in his wanderings, and now he was glad that through his action his cousin would enjoy it without reproach. After all, it was some return to make for the favours he had received. For himself there remained the charm of the lonely trail and the wide wilderness, unless, indeed, Harding succeeded better than Blake really expected with his petroleum exploitation scheme.
For all that, he had been badly tempted. Poverty and disgrace were serious obstacles to marriage, and had he been free to do so, he would eagerly have sought the hand of Millicent Graham. He knew now that he loved her and it was hard to hold his longing for her in check, but while this must be done for the present he did not altogether despair. He was hopeful and believed that if she loved him, she would not shrink from his painful story, while it was possible that another of his disadvantages might be removed. Harding was confident that they were going to be rich. Thinking about the girl tenderly, he walked up and down the terrace until he grew calm, and then went in to talk to Miss Challoner.
The next fortnight passed uneventfully and then one afternoon he met Millicent in a field-path and turned back with her to Hazlehurst. It was a raw day and the wind had brought a fine colour into her face, while she wore a little fur cap and fur-trimmed jacket which he thought became her very well.
"You have not been over often; Foster was remarking about it," she said to him.