But at this moment a rap came to the room door, and the squire paused. "Come in," he called, and the footman entered. "If you please, sir," he said, addressing the squire, "Mr. Henderson, of Stourton Grange, and Mr. Churchill have called, and wish very particularly to see you." "Where are they?" asked the squire. "In the hall, sir," replied the footman. "You can show them in here," said the squire, and he looked at John Temple as he spoke. But John Temple made no sign; he had grown a little pale, and that was all. CHAPTER XXX. JOHN TEMPLE LEAVES WOODLEA. A minute later Henderson and Mr. Churchill entered the room. Henderson's face was flushed a dusky red, but Mr. Churchill's looked pale, angry, and determined. He gave a quick, sharp glance around, and then advanced toward the squire, who gravely held out his hand, which, however, his tenant scarcely touched. "I've come on unpleasant business, Mr. Temple," he said, quickly; and then he looked at John Temple. "You mean about--" began the squire in faltering tones. "I mean about my daughter, sir! This gentleman," and he turned to Henderson, "has come to me this morning with a fine tale; he says my girl is living in London, and that your nephew has placed her there." For a moment or two no one spoke. Mr. Churchill was looking indignantly at John Temple, and the dark flush on Henderson's face had deepened, while his eyes also were fixed with an angry scowl on Temple. "John," said the squire, in a firmer voice, after a brief silence; "you hear what Mr. Churchill says; is this charge true or false?" John Temple looked slowly round at each man in turn. "I decline to answer any questions on the subject," he said, in a clear, firm voice. "But I've a right to ask questions on the subject, sir!" almost shouted Mr. Churchill, angrily. "This girl, my daughter, disappeared from her home and nothing has been heard of her since; and now I hear she is writing to you in a way that if she isn't married to you she ought to be." "I admit your right to ask questions, Mr. Churchill," answered John Temple, still firmly; "but I have no right to betray the secrets of others. And if this spy," and his eyes kindled, and he stretched out his arm in the direction of Henderson, "has already told you so much, he had better tell you more." "You dare to call me a spy, sir!" cried Henderson, in a voice hoarse with passion. "Yes, and something worse," answered John Temple, fiercely; "because this young lady rejected your insolent advances--advances which were an insult to her from a man like you; a man who had betrayed and broken another woman's heart, and then, as I believe there is a God above us, murdered her--!"