"He'll live to be a hundert, you see if he doan't, sir," said one man to whom the Captain had put a certain question. Ferris turned away with a stifled oath. It was on the afternoon of the tenth day after Mrs. Bullivant's return from London that some startling news reached Uplands. It was brought by the Tuxford carrier, who retailed it as a _bonne bouche_ to the maids in the kitchen, whence, before long, it penetrated to the drawing-room. The body of the "man-witch," Cornelius Dinkel, had been found early that morning, shot through the heart, in Threeways Spinny. So far nobody had been arrested for the crime. Mrs. Bullivant was alone in the drawing-room when her maid brought her the news. Gavin had lately had a pony given him, and his uncle had taken him out for a ride on it. A sudden vertigo took the mistress of Uplands almost before her maid had got halfway through her story. She motioned for her salts, and for a few moments lay back in her chair with closed eyes and white face. Then presently, with a faint, "I'm better; you can go," she dismissed the girl. It was not the news itself, startling though it was, which had had such an effect on Mrs. Bullivant. It was a horrible suspicion which, so to speak, had gripped her by the throat and refused to loosen its hold of her. Yesterday evening, as daylight was dying into dusk, her brother had left the house without saying either where he was going or when he might be looked for back. But she was used to his queer moods and apparently purposeless comings and goings, and found it best to question him as little as possible. She had hardly thought to see anything more of him till breakfast time next morning. Great, therefore, was her astonishment when, on crossing the hall a little after eleven o'clock on her way to her bedroom, she suddenly met him face to face. He had entered the house by a side door which could be opened from the outside without disturbing any of the servants. That he was both surprised and disconcerted by the meeting he showed plainly, his intention having apparently been to reach his room unseen by any one. But it was not so much the fact of coming unexpectedly on her brother as the appearance he presented that caused Mrs. Bullivant to start back with a low cry of alarm. For his face was as colorless as that of a corpse; his features were drawn and haggard; he looked at her with eyes which she did not recognize as his, so strangely changed was their expression; he was bareheaded, and his black hair, matted with sweat, was all in disorder; while his chest rose and fell pantingly like that of one who had outspent himself with running. Finally, both his boots and his clothes were bespattered with mud, for much rain had fallen in the course of the day. "Great heavens! Wilton, what ails you? What has happened to you?" cried Mrs. Bullivant.