"If it be as I suspect, I will," emphatically replied the Judge.
"Tell him," repeated Bede, as he walked away. "Tell him all that you know, Winter, from first to last."
It caused Mr. Greatorex and Butterby to be left alone together. The former, not much more pleased than William Ollivera, utterly puzzled, hurt at the want of confidence displayed by Bede in not trusting him, was in a downright ill-temper.
"What the devil is all this, Butterby?" demanded he. "What does it mean?"
Mr. Butterby, cool as a cucumber, let his eyelashes close for a moment over his non-betraying eyes, and then answered in meek simplicity.
"Ah, that's just it, sir--what it means. Wait, says your son Mr. Bede; wait patiently till things has worked round a bit, till such time as I can speak out. And depend upon it, Mr. Greatorex, he has good cause to give the advice."
"But what can it be that he has to tell? And why should he wait at all to tell it?"
"Well, I suppose he'd like to be more certain of the party," answered Butterby, with a dubious cough. "Take a word of advice from me too, Mr. Greatorex, on this here score, if I may make bold to offer it--do wait. Don't force your son to disclose things afore they are ripe. It might be better for all parties."
Mr. Greatorex looked at him. "Who is it that you suspect?"
"Me!" exclaimed Butterby. "Me suspect! Why, what with one odd thought or another, I'd as lieve say it must have been the man in the moon, for all the clue we've got. It was not Miss Rye: there can't be two opinions about that. I told you, sir, I had my strong doubts when you ordered her to be apprehended."