On the present occasion, Captain Hadleigh’s company showed that they had improved slightly on one of the yeomanry practices by keeping up their revels to a late hour without all getting drunk. The lieutenant having to pass Ringsford on his way home, and having his gig with him, drove the captain to the gates of the Manor. The snow had only ceased falling a little while before the company at the _King’s Head_ broke up, and now it lay deep on the roads, houses, and fields. The old church looked like a huge snow-house; and the meadows in the dim moonlight presented a white surface, apparently on a level with the hedgerows. The lieutenant’s powerful cob had its work to do, for at every step its hoofs sank deep in the snow-covered road. But the travellers were merry, and did not mind the slowness of their progress. Their chief trouble was to keep the road and avoid the open ditches. They succeeded in this, and also succeeded in distinguishing the point where the Manor gates broke the white wall. Coutts made his way through the side-gate, which shook large pancakes of snow down upon him as he opened it. The avenue being guarded by its long arch of tree-branches, the path was comparatively easy to traverse, and Coutts was soon in front of the house, which, like the church, was a shapeless white mass, broken by a few points of light. Underneath these few lights was dark shadow. As Coutts ascended the steps of the portico, a man stepped out from the shadow. ‘I want to speak to you a minute, Mr Coutts Hadleigh; I’ve been waiting all evening for you.’ Coutts was no coward, although his brain was somewhat muddy with wine; but this sudden apparition made him spring to the top of the steps and ring the bell, as he exclaimed fiercely: ‘Who are you, and what do you want with me at this hour?’ ‘I want to know where is Pansy Culver?’ said the man with enforced calmness, which contrasted to his advantage with the blustering ire of the other. ‘Confound your impudence—how should I know?’ ‘I saw you with her at the London station. Where has she gone to? Where did you send her to?’ ‘She didn’t tell me where she was going to, and I didn’t send her anywhere.’ Caleb Kersey’s calmness broke bounds, and he next spoke with savage determination: ‘You are lying, and you shall tell me the truth.’ ‘You’re an insolent fool.’ As Caleb swiftly ascended the steps, he received a vigorous buffet on the breast, which tumbled him backward on the snow. The door was open; Coutts entered; the door was instantly closed, bolted, chained, and locked. ‘Tell that fellow Kersey to go about his business,’ said Coutts to the attendant who had been waiting up for him; ‘he is drunk or mad. If he has any business with me, he knows where to find me at proper hours.’