"It seems we'll get the estates of the Manor in our family after all, and by a much more honourable method than father tried. That deed always did make me half ashamed of our name." "Captain Tom," said Sir James, with a little of asperity in his voice, "the plan that exposed a traitor was perfectly honourable." "I have always had my doubts whether my old comrade, Major Tommy Trembath, was a traitor, or his father either. They were both too honest to be guilty of treason. Why, look at the record of old Captain Ande at Culloden and Prestonpans. He was a hero. There he stood with Gardner at Prestonpans, fighting gallantly until stricken down with overwhelming numbers, and there was Major Tommy in the Peninsular campaigns. Aye, the more I think of it the more am I inclined to disbelieve the report of their treason,--but circumstances were against them," and the old soldier sighed, and with a halting step, due to a wound--a relic of the Napoleonic wars,--he tramped once or twice up and down the veranda. When he ceased, the look of sadness was gone and a humorous twinkle was in his eye. Around his weather-beaten countenance there was the faint trace of a smile of merriment. "However, it is a good plan,--this marriage--and--if Cousin Betty can catch the squire we'll have a double claim on the Manor." "Why, Captain Tom, how absurd!" exclaimed Mistress Betty, blushing confusedly. "A tell-tale blush! I'll have to tell my old friend, the squire, of his opportunities to capture the stronghold of ages, that has remained unconquered for----" "How absurd!" exclaimed Mistress Betty, in mingled anger and confusion, as she beat a hasty retreat to her apartments. CHAPTER VIII "OFF WITH HIS HEAD."[3] [3] "King Richard III." It was still twilight when the squire reached the Manor. Hastily giving the cob into the hand of Sloan, he hurried into the hall and seated himself by a large window, where was stationed a large oaken table littered with a motley array of books and papers. This was the squire's position when any petty case was brought before him. Whether the books were kept for show or use no one knew. The only time the squire was known to look at them was during a trial, and this he did with the air of a Lord Chief Justice, which air had a very perceptible effect upon the trembling culprit. If the truth were told, the squire had a more intimate knowledge of fishing, hunting, farm and mine management, the origin of ancient village plays and customs, than about law. Law always was a perplexing study to him. But as a compensation for his lack in this respect, he more than made it up in the learned dignity of his demeanour. There were approaching steps heard on the veranda, and then the opening of a door, and in a moment more Stephen Blunt and Ande Trembath stood before him.