“Yes, ’e has one. It ’appened long before I came ’ere, so it’s all ’earsay, as it were, but by all accounts ’is son was as different from ’im—well, as ’er ladyship is. That made for trouble, I dessay: ’e was for being a hartist, I believe, and Sir Roger, ’e don’t ’old with anything of that sort; but I don’t rightly know ’ow the actual quarrel came about. The son, ’e married a girl whose people used to live in the village, I’ve ’eard tell, and Sir Roger, ’e was that mad when ’e come to ’ear of it, ’e turned ’im out of the ’ouse, at night it was too, with awful words, and they say as ’ow ’e made ’er ladyship and Miss Celia—she must ’ave been only a little girl then—give ’im their solemn word they’d never mention ’is son’s name again. I believe ’e’d ’ave turned them out too if they ’adn’t. People as knew ’im, they say ’e was worse as ’e grew older. Anyways, there ain’t one who could have lived with ’im as her ladyship’s done, not for all ’is money. The things she’s ’ad to put up with don’t bear telling, they say; but there, I don’t ’old with gossip myself, and I don’t suppose ’e was as black as ’e’s painted.” Humblethorne listened with much attention; anything which bore upon the life of the house might have its significance, though he was too well versed in the exaggerations of popular report to do more than docket the main facts of the story in his mind. “And this was a long time ago, you say?” “It must be nigh on ten year, I should say,” replied Timmins, after much thought. “Mrs. Martin was talking about it only this morning, and I remember she said as ’ow her eldest was just turned two when it happened, and ’e’s getting on for twelve now.” “Well, I must be going out again,” said Humblethorne, rising. “You have certainly given me a good deal of information.” “Always glad to oblige,” replied Timmins with an air of superb condescension. Humblethorne walked slowly back to the Towers, turning over the story in his mind; but it was ancient history, he reflected, and, however interesting for the side-lights it threw upon Sir Roger’s character and reputation, it seemed to have no bearing upon the facts before him. He was met at the door by Birts, who put on a look of importance immediately and obviously had something fresh to tell him. “Well, Birts,” he said, seeing that the other was anxious to be asked, “you look as if you had found out something.” “I have,” replied Birts with a pleased air. “I rather think it isn’t going to be a real case, after all.” “What have you found?” “There was a window forced last night, after all,” answered Birts. “It seemed as if there must be somewhere. It’s the small one in the pantry: glass smashed and all.” “Let me see it. Nothing been touched, I hope?” “Not a thing; I give orders it wasn’t to be till you’d had a look.” Humblethorne nodded; his mind was running rapidly over possibilities.