'They--they certainly did not pass along the road outside,' said Doctor Unonius, speaking as in a dream. 'The noise of galloping turned off at some distance below the house, and seemed to die away to the northward.' 'Then I've made a cursed mess of this,' said the riding-officer, snatching up his hat. 'Your pardon, ma'am! and if you won't forgive me to-night, I'll call and apologise to-morrow.' CHAPTER VII. He was gone. They heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs down the road, and listened as it died away. Neither spoke. Mrs Tresize stood by the table, and so that, glancing sideways across her left shoulder, her eyes studied the doctor's back, which he kept obstinately turned upon her. He had put up a hand to the chimney-shelf and leaned forward with his gaze bent on the embers. 'Doctor?' 'Ma'am?' after a long pause. 'Do you really reckon smuggling so very sinful?' 'It is not a question of smuggling, ma'am.' 'Oh, yes, it is!' she insisted. 'Once you get mixed up in that business you have to deceive at times--if 'tis only to protect others.' 'I can understand, ma'am,' said the doctor, after another pause, 'that to dabble in smuggling is to court many awkward situations. You need not remind _me_ of that, who am fresh from misleading that young man. It was--if you will pardon my saying so--by reason of his trust in my good faith that you escaped cross-questioning.' 'I'll grant that, and with all my heart. But, since deceiving him goes so hard against the grain with you, he shall know the truth to-morrow, when he comes to apologise. Will that content you?' 'It will be some atonement, ma'am. As for contenting me--' 'You mean that I have given you a shock? And that to recover your esteem will not be easy?' She asked it with a small, pathetic sigh, and took a step towards the fireplace, as if to entreat his pardon. But before he could be aware of this his attention was claimed by a sound without. The latch of the back door was lifted with a click, and, almost before he could face about, steps were heard in the passage. The door of the best kitchen opened a foot or so, and through the aperture was thrust the head of Tryphena--of Tryphena, who by rights should be lying upstairs, victim of a colic. 'Missus!' announced Tryphena, in a hoarse whisper. 'The kegs be stowed all right in the orchet--all the four dozen. But here's Butcher Truman, teasy as fire. Says he's been robbed o' fifty pounds on the way an' can't pay the carriers! An' the carriers be tappin' the stuff an' drinkin' what's left, an' neither to hold nor to bind but threat'nin' to cut the inside of en out--an' he's here, if you plaze, to know if so be you could lend a few pounds to satisfy 'em. I told en--' 'Show him in,' commanded Mrs Tresize, with a creditable hold on her voice; for, to tell the truth, she was half hysterical.