"Why, there has been no murder?" said Sir James, startled out of his ordinary self-possession.
"Aye, as good as a murder," rejoined the squire, and he related with flushed countenance and angry voice the incidents of the morning.
The master of Lanyan Hall interrupted him midway by asking him to the study, where they could talk at their leisure. They arose and passed from the main hall to a side apartment fitted up in elaborate style. There, surrounded by tomes of learning and every mark of ease and comfort, the squire and his friend were soon discussing the former's grievances and suspicions.
"Now, what I want to know is this, what does the law allow a man to do in such circumstances? You, Sir James, are well versed in law, have been to Parliament and can advise me. I confess I cannot find anything about it in the statutes."
"Well, the only thing you can do, having nothing but suspicion, is to have a private interview with the lad and worm a confession out of him," said Sir James, and there was a scarcely perceptible little smile of amusement that lingered around the lips of Lanyan.
"I am pleased to find out that I have acted wisely, for that was exactly my plan," said the squire, flushing with gratified vanity to think that his views and the learned parliamentarian's coincided. "And now what are your plans for reëlection to Parliament?"
"Reëlection. Plans—none at all, friend Vivian."
"Why, you are certainly going to stand for the section, are you not?"
"No, I think not; my interest is not strong enough with the classes. To tell the truth, squire, I am heartily disgusted with Tory principles, and were it not for the name I would become a Liberal."