They were in the shadowy aisle by this time, and Mr. Dunbar was looking about him with his hat in his hand.
"You didn't go on to the Ferns, then, sir?" said the verger.
"No, I sent my servant on to inquire if the old lady is at home. If I find that she is, I shall sleep in Winchester to-night, and drive over to-morrow morning to see her. Her husband was a very old friend of mine. How far is it from here to the Ferns?"
"A matter of two mile, sir."
Mr. Dunbar looked at his watch.
"Then my man ought to be back in an hour's time," he said; "I told him to come on to me here. I left him half-way between here and St. Cross."
"Is that other gentleman your servant, sir?" asked the verger, with unmitigated surprise.
"Yes, that gentleman, as you call him, is, or rather was, my confidential servant. He is a clever fellow, and I make a companion of him. Now, if you please, we will see the chapels."
Mr. Dunbar evidently desired to put a stop to the garrulous inclinations of the verger.
He walked through the aisle with a careless easy step, and with his head erect, looking about him as he went along: but presently, while the verger was busy unlocking the door of one of the chapels, Mr. Dunbar suddenly reeled like a drunken man, and then dropped heavily upon an oaken bench near the chapel-door.