He turned slowly towards home, thinking of this. As he passed the waste ground and Pike's shed, he cast his eyes towards it; a curl of smoke was ascending from the extemporized chimney, still discernible in the twilight. It occurred to Lord Hartledon that this man, who had the character of being so lawless, had been rather suspiciously intimate with the man Gorton. Not that the intimacy in itself was suspicious; birds of a feather flocked together; but the most simple and natural thing connected with Gorton would have borne suspicion to Hartledon's mind now. He had barely passed the gate when some shouting arose in the road behind him. A man, driving a cart recklessly, had almost come in contact with another cart, and some hard language ensued. Lord Hartledon turned his head quickly, and just caught Mr. Pike's head, thrust a little over the top of the gate, watching him. Pike must have crouched down when Lord Hartledon passed. He went back at once; and Pike put a bold face on the matter, and stood up. "So you occupy your palace still, Pike?" "Such as it is. Yes." "I half-expected to find that Mr. Marris had turned you from it," continued Lord Hartledon, alluding to his steward. "He wouldn't do it, I expect, without your lordship's orders; and I don't fancy you'll give 'em," was the free answer. "I think my brother would have given them, had he lived." "But he didn't live," rejoined Pike. "He wasn't let live." "What do you mean?" asked Lord Hartledon, mystified by the words. Pike ignored the question. "'Twas nearly a smash," he said, looking at the two carts now proceeding on their different ways. "That cart of Floyd's is always in hot water; the man drinks; Floyd turned him off once." The miller's cart was jogging up the road towards home, under convoy of the offending driver; the boy, David Ripper, sitting inside on some empty sacks, and looking over the board behind: looking very hard indeed, as it seemed, in their direction. Mr. Pike appropriated the gaze. "Yes, you may stare, young Rip!" he apostrophized, as if the boy could hear him; "but you won't stare yourself out of my hands. You're the biggest liar in Calne, but you don't mislead me." "Pike, when you made acquaintance with that man Gorton--you remember him?" broke off Lord Hartledon. "Yes, I do," said Pike emphatically. "Did he make you acquainted with any of his private affairs?--his past history?" "Not a word," answered Pike, looking still after the cart and the boy. "Were those fine whiskers of his false? that red hair?" Pike turned his head quickly. The question had aroused him. "False hair and whiskers! I never knew it was the fashion to wear them." "It may be convenient sometimes, even if not the fashion," observed Lord Hartledon, his tone full of cynical meaning; and Mr. Pike surreptitiously peered at him with his small light eyes.