St. George was evidently at a loss yet, and stood in silence. All in a moment, his face lighted up. "Surely," he cried impulsively, "you did not take that man in the gig for William Brook!" "It was William Brook. Who else was it?" "A stranger. A stranger to me and to the neighbourhood. A man to whom I gave a lift." Tod's face presented a picture. Believing, as he did still, that it was Brook in the gig, the idea suggested by me--that St. George was concealing Brook at his house out of good-fellowship--grew stronger and stronger. But he considered that, as it had come to this, St. George ought to say so. "Where's the use of your continuing to deny it, St. George?" he asked. "You had Brook there, and you know you had." "But I tell you that it was not Brook," returned St. George. "Should I deny it, if it had been he? You talk like a child." "Has Brook been away so long that we shouldn't know him, do you suppose?" retorted quick-tempered Tod. "Why! as a proof that it was Brook, he shouted back his greeting to us, taking off his hat to wave it in answer to ours. Would a strange man have done that?" "The man did nothing of the kind," said St. George. "Yes, he did," I said, thinking it was time I spoke. "He called back a greeting to us, and he waved his hat round and round. I should not have felt so sure it was Brook but for seeing him without his hat." "Well, I did not see him do it," conceded St. George. "When you began to shout in passing the man seemed surprised. 'What do those people want?' he said to me; and I told him you were acquaintances of mine. It never occurred to my mind, or to his either, I should imagine, but that the shouts were meant for me. If he did take off his hat in response, as you say, he must have done it, I reckon, because I did not take off mine." "Couldn't you hear our welcome to him? Couldn't you hear us call him 'Brook'?" persisted Tod. "I did not distinguish a single word. The wind was too high for that." "Then we are to understand that Brook has not come back: that you did not bring him?" interposed the Squire. "Be quiet, Joe; can't you see you were mistaken? I told you you were, you know, at the time. You and Johnny are for ever taking up odd notions, Johnny especially." "The man was a stranger to me," spoke St. George. "I overtook him trudging along the road, soon after leaving Worcester; it was between Red Hill and the turning to Whittington. He accosted me, asking which of the two roads before us would take him to Evesham. I told him which, and was about to drive on when it occurred to me that I might as well offer to give the man a lift: it was an awful evening, and that's the truth: one that nobody would, as the saying runs, turn a dog out in. He thanked me, and got up; and I drove him as far as----" "Then that's what took you round by Dip Lane, St. George?" interrupted Mr. Delorane.