“Is it possible that the man Gray has left here?” he said. “Are we, after all, as far off the secret as ever? And yet I cannot think so. What could be the motive of such an inscription on the door as that which states his departure more than a month since. It is some trick merely. By Heavens, that must have been Gray who left the King’s Bounty so soon before me. The fates seem to be propitious to the rascal, and to aid him in every way. I made sure the information was good, and that I had him here safe for the fetching merely.” Sir Francis now walked to and fro in the room for some minutes; then he paused and said,— “He can’t be hiding here anywhere. The old house is full of cupboards and closets, but they are very easily searched. Learmont, Learmont! Are you still to triumph in your villany for a time? I could stake my life upon the fact that some crime of black hue was committed that night of the storm at the Old Smithy at yonder village. The issues of the crime are still at work, but they are not revealed. Humph! It’s of no use apprehending Britton on mere vague suspicion. No, that would be very foolish, for it would set the whole party on their guard, and that which is difficult now might become impossible.” “Please your worship, he ain’t heard nothing,” said the man, at this moment entering the room again. “No noise of any kind?” “No, nothing, your worship.” “No one has crossed the fields within view since he has stood guard?” “Not a mouse, your worship.” “Very well. Now go and search the lower rooms thoroughly, and then come back to me here. I shall rest on this chair awhile.” So saying, Sir Francis Hartleton sat down on the chair which Ada had stood upon to enable her to reach the panel that opened to the vault. How little the poor, persecuted Ada imagined that a powerful friend was very near to her. Jacob Gray was now almost afraid to breathe, so close was the magistrate to him. Had the wainscotting not intervened, Gray could, had he been so minded, have touched Sir Francis’s head without moving from where he stood. At length he spoke again. “I wonder,” he said, “if this girl that the Seytons speak of, and yon poor creature, Maud, raves of as an angel, be really the child that was saved from the Smithy on the night of the storm and the murder? I have only one very substantial reason for thinking so, and that is, that the name of Britton is mixed up with the business. To be sure, the dates correspond pretty well with what the young man, Seyton, says he thinks is her age. It’s rather strange though, that no one except Maud mentions Learmont at all in the matter, and her mention of him is nothing new. ’Tis a mysterious affair, and, at all events, this man, Gray, is at hide and seek for some very special reason indeed.” The man who had been sent to examine the lower rooms now returned. “Well,” said Sir Francis. “There ain’t not nothing, your worship, by no means,” he said. “You have searched carefully?”