"They took our horses as far as the 'Bell and Horns,' at Slowton." She called shrilly to Boots, "They're not stoppin' at the 'Bell and Horns,' sure. Come here, and tell Sir Jekyl Marlowe about Mr. Strangers." "You said last night they were going to Awkworth;" and Sir Jekyl chuckled scornfully, for he was vexed. "They changed their minds, sir." "Well, we'll say so. You're a wonderful fascinating sex. Egad! if you could only carry anything right in your heads for ten minutes, you'd be too charming." And at this point Boots emerged, and Sir Jekyl continued, addressing him-- "Well, where are the gentlemen who left this morning?" asked he. "They'll be at the 'Bell and Horns,' sir." "Where's that?" "Slowton, sir." "I know. What hour did they go?" "Eight o'clock, sir." "Just seven miles. The Sterndale Road, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." And that was all Boots had to tell. "Will ye please to come in, sir?" inquired Mrs. Jones. "No, my good creature. I haven't time. The old gentleman--what's his name?" "I don't know, Sir, please. He calls the young gentleman Guy, and the young gentleman calls him _sir_." "And both the same name?" "We calls 'em both Strangers, please, sir." "I know. Servants, had they?" "Yes, sir, please. But they sent 'em on." "Rich--don't want for money, I suppose. Eh?" "Oh! plenty money, sir." "And the servants called the men Strangways, I suppose, eh?" "Yes, Sir Jekyl, please; and so the letters came." "You never happened to hear any other name?" "No, Sir Jekyl." "_Think._" Mrs. Jones did think, but could recall nothing. "Nothing with a D?" "D, sir! What, sir?" "No matter what," said the Baronet. "No name beginning with D--eh?" "No, sir. You don't think they're going by a false name?" inquired the lady, curiously. "What the devil puts that in your head? Take care of the law; you must not talk that way, you foolish little rogue." "I did not know, sir," timidly answered Mrs. Jones, who saw in Sir Jekyl, the Parliament-man, Deputy-Lieutenant, and Grand Juror, a great oracle of the law. "I only wanted to know whether you had happened to hear the name of the elder of the two gentlemen, and could recollect what letter it begins with." "No, sir, please." "So you've no more to tell me?" "Nothing, sir." "If they come back tell them I rode over to offer them some shooting, and to beg they'd remember to come to Marlowe. You won't forget?" "No sir." "Do they return here?" "I think not, sir." "Well, I believe there's nothing else," and the Baronet looked up reflectively, as if he expected to find a memorandum scribbled on the blue sky, leaning with his hand on the back of his horse. "No, nothing. You won't forget my message, that's all. Good-bye, my dear." And touching the tips of his gloves to his lips, with a smile and a nod he cantered down the Sterndale Road.