"What do you want there?" exclaimed Mr. Henry, going forward to confront him.
"Nothing to-night," was the ready answer; "I'll come another time."
All in a moment, Mr. Henry recognized the voice; recognized the low-crowned hat, and the slightly lame step. He placed himself in the intruder's way.
"I saw you here once before, at the back of the house then: you were looking for the entrance, you said, to deliver a letter. Did you—did you enter the house that night and take anything?"
"No; you did."
The cool and positive assertion nearly took away Mr. Henry's presence of mind. He had spoken upon impulse. He was quite uncertain what he ought to do in the emergency, whether anything or not. Meanwhile the stranger was walking quietly away, and Mr. Henry did nothing.
The following day he met Miss Brabazon with some of her relatives and a whole troop of children. She was a little behind the rest, hastening to catch them up.
"Will you allow me to speak to you for one moment, Miss Brabazon?"
"Well," she answered, rather impatiently, as if it were a trouble to remain. It cannot be denied that she had at times treated him with scant courtesy since the suspicion of him instilled into her mind by Trace.
He told her what he had seen; that he recognised the voice to be the same; recognised the man and his lameness. Miss Brabazon's face grew white.