I turned, on my way to the side gate, to explain: that Don had been seen at Evesham in the company of Dick Standish, that the Squire would be driving thither on the morrow, and had thought Mr. Reste might like to go with him. "Very kind of Mr. Todhetley," drawled Barbary in his stand-off manner. "Tell him, with my compliments and thanks for his courtesy, that my nephew has left for London." "Left for good, I suppose?" I said. "For the present, at any rate. A pressing matter of business recalled him, and he had to attend to it without delay." I glanced at Katrine: there was the explanation. "So the dog is at Evesham!" remarked Mr. Barbary. "The Standishes are great rogues, all three of them, and Dick's the worst. But--I think--had you gone after him to-day, instead of delaying it until to-morrow, there might have been more certainty of finding him. Mr. Dick may give you leg-bail in the night." "The police will see he does not do that; the Squire has sent a messenger to warn them," I replied. "I suppose you have not heard any more rumours about the poaching on Tuesday night, Mr. Barbary?" "I've heard no more than was said at first--that the keepers reported some poachers were out, and they nearly came to an encounter with the rascals. Wish they had--and that I had seen the fun. Reste and I had walked to Church Leet and back that day; we were both tired and went upstairs betimes." To hear him coolly assert this, to see his good-looking face raised unblushingly to the sun as he said it, must have been as a bitter farce to Katrine, who had believed him, until a few days back, to be next door to a saint for truth and goodness. _I_ put faith in it, not being then behind the scenes. Mr. Barbary did his packing leisurely. Tea was over, and dusk set in before the portmanteau was shut up and its direction fastened to it. Katrine read the card. "Edgar Reste, Esq., Euston Square Station, London. _To be left till called for._" Very lonely felt Katrine, sitting by herself that evening, working a strip of muslin for a frill. _He_ was not there to talk to her in his voice of music--for that's what she had grown to think it, like other girls in love. She wondered whether they should ever meet again--ever, ever? She wondered how long it would be before a letter came from him, and whether he would write to _her_. Mr. Barbary appeared at supper-time, ate some cold lamb in silence, seeming to be buried in thought, and went back to the gun-room when he had finished. Katrine got to her work again, did a little, then put it away for the night, and turned to the book-shelf to get a book. Standing to make a choice of one, Katrine was seized with consternation. On the lower shelf, staring her right in the face, was Mr. Reste's Bible. It had been given him by his dead father, and he set store by it. He must have left it downstairs the previous Sunday, and Joan had put it away on the shelves amongst the other books.