The Squire put his arm within the younger man's, and marched on down High Street to the silversmith's, never so much as looking at the bank door. Stephenson was in the shop alone: such a lot of us, it seemed, turning in! The Squire, hot and impulsive, attacked him as he had attacked Edward Corles. What did Stephenson mean by making that infamous accusation about his son? It took Stephenson aback, as might be seen; his eyes opened and his hair stood on end straighter than ever. Looking from one to the other of us, he last looked at Mr. Corles, as if seeking an explanation. "The best thing you can do, to begin with, Stephenson, is to relate to Squire Todhetley and these gentlemen the particulars you gave me yesterday morning," said Mr. Corles. "I mean when you took the bank-note, a month ago." Without more ado, Stephenson quietly followed the advice; he seemed of as calm a temperament as the Squire was the contrary, and recited the particulars just given. The Squire's will was good to interrupt at every second word, but Mr. Corles begged him to listen to the end. "Oh, that's all very well," cried he at last, "all true, I dare say; what I want to know is, how you came to pitch upon that customer as being my son." "But he was your son, sir. He was young Mr. Todhetley." "Nonsense!" retorted the Squire. "Was this he?" drawing Tod forward. "No, sir; certainly not." "Well, this is my only son; except a little who is not yet much more than out of his petticoats. Come! what do you say now?" Stephenson looked again at one and the other of us. His pale face took a sort of thoughtful haze as if he had passed into a fog. "It must have been young Mr. Todhetley," spoke he; "everything seemed to uphold the fact." "Now don't you turn obstinate and uphold what is _not_ the fact," reproved the Squire. "When I tell you this is my only son, except the child, how dare you dispute my word?" It should be stated that Stephenson had been with the silversmith since the beginning of the year only, and had come from Birmingham. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Todhetley by sight, from their coming sometimes to the shop, but he had never yet seen Tod or me. "I don't suppose you want Squire Todhetley's word confirmed, Stephenson, but I can do so if necessary," said Mr. Corles. "This is his only grown-up son." "No, no, sir, of course I don't," said Stephenson. "This gentleman," looking at Tod, "does not bear any resemblance to the one who changed the note." "What was he like?" said Tom Chandler, speaking for the first time; and he asked it because his thoughts were full. "He was fair, sir," replied Stephenson. "What height?" "About middle height. A young, slender man." "Well dressed? Spoke like a gentleman?" "Oh, quite like a gentleman, and very well dressed indeed." "Just as MacEveril was that morning, on the strength of getting to the picnic," ran through Tom Chandler's thoughts. "Did he come off here first, I wonder?"