This rumour was quick to reach Gipsy Steve's ears, with the result that the ex-poacher got furiously drunk, and went about vowing vengeance in forcible and blood-curdling terms, thereby narrowly escaping summary dismissal at the hands of Colonel Neville. It was not long, either, in becoming known to Turner, and that reverend person, coupling it with the upshot of his earlier observations, could not refrain from making capital--pious capital of course--out of the knowledge. But circumspectly as he had originated the rumour and disseminated it withal, common consent attributed it to Hubert, and men wondered how his brother could have been such a fool as to trust a fellow who couldn't keep counsel in a delicate affair of this kind, but went blabbing it all over the place. Finally, it became known to the General, as Hubert had all along intended it should. From that moment he felt secure. The heavens might fall, but never again would Roland set foot in his father's presence. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. THE BAN. "Yes, sir. Our town's bigger nor Wandsbro'--more go-ahead like. It didn't use to be so, you see, but when them works at Wandsbro' were shut up, why, then it fell back and we went ahead, sir." So spake the loquacious waiter in the coffee-room of the "Silver Fleece Inn," at Battisford, as he skipped, napkin in hand, round the only guest, who was dining early, for it was Sunday. A finely-proportioned man of, apparently, about sixty, and wearing a bushy iron-grey beard and dark-tinted spectacles, it would be difficult to guess at his rank in life. He might be a peer of the realm, or he might be a detective, and he was dressed with perfect simplicity, though well. "Indeed?" he replied carelessly. "I just remember being at Wandsborough many years ago, when I was almost a boy. By the way, what's that remarkably fine place I passed driving over here? It stood back in a park, where there were any amount of deer." "Was it against the hill, sir? 'Cos that's Cranston 'All--Gen'ral Dorrien's. Yes, that is a fine place, sir." "Dorrien did you say? Dorrien? Now that's strange. Fact is, I used to know someone of that name, but I'm certain he hadn't ever been in the army. Has this one any sons?" "Oh, yes, sir. There's--" "Ah! The one I knew hadn't. He was a bachelor." "That must 'ave been the old squire, sir--the Gen'ral's brother. 'E was a bachelor. But this one--well, sir, I don't mind tellin' you, 'e's a terribly cross-tempered gentleman, and they do say as how none of his fam'ly can live with him." "Indeed? How's that?"