"Who's Mr. Barley of the Oaks, Jemima?" I asked.
"He is master's elder brother, Miss. He lives at the Oaks, about three miles from here. Such a nice place it is—ten times better than this. When the old gentleman died, Mr. Barley came into the Oaks, and Mr. Edwin into this."
Then there was silence again for another half-hour. I sat with my eyes closed, and heard them say I was asleep. The young farm labourer, Duff, came in at last.
"Well," said he, "it have been a useless chase. I wonder whether I am wanted for anything else."
"Where have you been?" asked Jemima.
"Scouring the wood, seven of us, in search of Mr. Heneage: and them two mounted police is a-dashing about the roads. We haven't found him."
"Duff, Mr. Heneage no more did it than you did."
"That's all you know about it," was Duff's answer. "Master says he did."
"Have a cup of coffee, Duff?" asked the cook.
"Thank ye," said Duff. "I'd be glad on't."