Mr. Mallory reared his tall, spare frame from the basket-chair in which he had been lounging, and, having pressed his wife's hand to reassure her that all would be well, turned with mock severity to the culprits.
"Come into the study," he said in his most judicial tone. "The remarks I have to make are not for the benefit of any chance passer-by, or of Mr. Lazarus Lowch if he is on the prowl."
The three passed into the house, and as soon as the door of Mr. Mallory's sanctum was shut upon them he laid an affectionate hand on the shoulder of each of his young companions. "Your little affair will be all right," he smiled at them, laying aside his judicial manner. "You were born to keep each other in order, and we old folks should have been disappointed had it been otherwise. But in return for my easy sanction, I want your fullest confidence about something very different. I was watching you the other day at the inquest, Reggie. What really happened that night when you two were sweethearting on the marsh?"
Two pairs of youthful eyes questioned each other, and each gave a mutely tentative answer in the affirmative.
"We saw something that night that might get some one into trouble," Reggie took upon himself to say. "Some one who—well, didn't strike us as the sort of chap to deserve it. So we decided to keep quiet about it."
"I am inclined to think that your discretion was praiseworthy," said Mr. Mallory gravely. "I hope, however, that for that some one's sake I may be honoured by your confidence. It was Leslie Chermside, was it not?"
"Well, yes; as you seem to be omniscient, sir, and friendly to him, we did see Chermside on the marsh that night," Reggie admitted.
"But we didn't see him murdering anybody," interposed Enid; adding inconsequently, "Dear Violet Maynard wouldn't be so keen on him if he was a murderer."
"You were not, I presume, an actual witness of the crime," Mr. Mallory said drily. He remained silent for a minute, walking up and down the room, and then continued—
"Now, look here, you two. There is some ugly mischief going on here, and it is my belief that Chermside, though mixed up in it, is more sinned against than sinning. You will best serve him by being perfectly frank with me, and if it will induce you to be so, let me say that the wire-puller in the business is Mr. Travers Nugent. You are both of you aware of my opinion of that gentleman, based on grounds of former official experience. I am certain that there is some deep-laid plot afoot in which Chermside is a mere pawn—a plot which I somehow vaguely deem to be directed against the good people who have rented the Manor House. I have utterly failed so far to gain the slightest inkling of the nature or object of Nugent's machinations, but I have gathered this—that whether Chermside killed that little Jew or not Nugent is holding over him, as a means to effect his purpose, the probability of imminent arrest."