CHAPTER VII.
Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles,
Miles on miles
On the solitary pastures, where our sheep,
Half asleep,
Tinkle homeward in the twilight—stay or stop
As they crop.
Browning.
There was a general hush, during which the doctor surveyed Mr. Cranmer keenly.
"What can be the meaning of it?" cried Claud, thoroughly disconcerted and at fault.
"That's past my telling, or the telling of anybody else, I think," said Dr. Forbes, slowly. "It's the most mysterious thing in the whole course of my professional experience." He eyed Claud again. "Will you be a friend of his?" he asked.
"No, no—I know nothing of him at all," said the young man, proceeding briefly to relate how strangely he had been summoned to the scene of the tragedy. The Scotchman listened attentively, and then asked abruptly:
"Since ye take so kindly an interest in the poor lad, will ye come up and see him?"