"Is to arrest you on the charge of murder. Here is the warrant," said the other very gravely. "I must, as a matter of form, caution you against making any statement, though as a magistrate yourself, sir, you will be aware of this formality." "Yes, the warrant is all right," he said, running his eye over it and noting idly that it was signed by a man with whom he had next to no personal acquaintance. The sword had fallen at last. Was he dazed--was he dreaming--or was he really stunned? Was he, Roland Dorrien--one of the most influential men in the county, and lord of this noble patrimony whose limits he could not see from his highest window--was he, indeed, a prisoner, henceforth no longer master of the simplest of his own actions? Horror incredible! Something of this must have appeared in his aspect as he turned away, for the detective watched him keenly. "Let me see. I don't know whether you will prevent my just saying a word to Mrs Dorrien before I go with you. She is rather unwell this morning, and this in addition will try her dreadfully." The officer shook his head. "I'm extremely sorry, sir, but it can't be done. You see I'm bound not to lose sight of you, and if I were to go with you it would frighten the lady still more." Roland faced round upon him. "Listen. What if I were to pledge you my word of honour to return to you here in ten minutes?" For half a moment the detective wavered. Then he shook his head very gravely. "Can't do it, sir!" "No! Hang it! I suppose it wasn't fair of me to put you into such a position. And you've been very good in managing so quietly. Of course--one would have time to do all manner of queer things in ten minutes. I'll order the brougham at once. It'll be thought I've gone gaol-visiting, ha-ha?" Again the officer eyed him very curiously. That strange laugh, teeming with a subtle irony, the queer carelessness of his tone, put the detectives thoroughly upon their guard, and caused them to determine that there was something about this case that was decidedly "fishy." They were fully alive, too, to the importance of their errand. It was not every day that their duty required them to arrest a gentleman, a squire and a J.P., for murder. Roland rang the bell and gave the necessary orders. In a few minutes the brougham came round. The officers had declined all offers of refreshment, and became very impatient to start. Sophie was passing through the hall as they came out. "Why, where are you going, Roland?" she asked in astonishment. "Got to go to Battisford on business. Take care of yourselves till I come back. Bye-bye?"