"You were at home here by half-past eleven?" spoke Squire Dobie.
"It had not gone the half hour."
"And did not go down the lane again?"
"Certainly not. I had nothing to go for. On the following morning, before it was light, I was roused from my bed by tidings of the death of my brother Peter, and I went off at once to Stilborough."
"Poor Peter!" exclaimed the Squire. "What a nice steady young fellow he was!--just the opposite of Basil. And what a name he afterwards made for himself!"
"When I returned to Greylands in the afternoon," quietly went on Mr. Castlemaine, "and found that Anthony was said to have disappeared unaccountably, and that my name was being bandied about in connection with it, you may imagine my astonishment."
"Yes, if you were really ignorant."
The Master of Greylands half rose from his chair, and then resumed it. His spirit, subdued hitherto, was quickening.
"Forbearance has its limits, Squire Dobie; so has courtesy. Will you inform me by what right you come into my house and persist in these most offensive and aspersive questions?"
"By the right of my former friendship for your brother Basil. I have no children of my own: never had any; and when I heard this tale, my heart warmed to poor Basil's son: I resolved to take up his cause, and try to discover what had become of him."