He had seen no one since he left the boat, and even now, as he arrived close to the house, no living thing appeared. He walked round on one side. It was the side of the old aisle, and there was no door to be found. He turned to the other, and found his progress interrupted by a low hedge, looking over which he fancied he saw an entrance. He stepped, therefore, over the enclosure; but, by the noise of the smashing twigs a dog was aroused, a wild, wolfish-looking animal, that rushed fiercely at him with a yelping bark. Grenfell stood fast, and prepared to defend himself with a strong stick, when suddenly a harsh voice cried out, “Morrah! come back, Morrah! Don’t strike the dog, Sir, or he’ll tear you to pieces!” And then a tall, thin man, much stooped in the shoulders, and miserably dressed, came forward, and motioned the dog to retire. “Is he savage?” said Grenfell. “Not savage enough to keep off intruders, it seems,” was the uncourteous reply. “Is your business with me, Sir?” “If I speak to Mr. Luttrell, it is.” “My name is Luttrell.” “Mine is Grenfell; but I may be better known as the friend of your old friend, Sir Gervais Vyner.” “Grenfell--Grenfell! to be sure. I know the name--we all know it,” said Luttrell, with a sort of sneer. “Is Vyner come--is he with you?” “No, Sir,” said Grenfell, smarting under the sting of what he felt to be an insult. “It is because he could not come that he asked me to see you.” Luttrell made no reply, but stood waiting for the other to continue. “I have come on a gloomy errand, Mr. Luttrell, and wish you would prepare yourself to hear very, very sad news.” “What do you call prepare?” cried Luttrell, in a voice almost a shriek. “I know of nothing that prepares a man for misfortune except its frequency,” muttered he, in a low tone. “What is it? Is it of Harry--of my boy?” Grenfell nodded. “Wait,” said Luttrell, pressing his hand over his brow. “Let me go in. No, Sir; I can walk without help.” He grasped the door-post as he spoke, and stumbling onward, clutching the different objects as he went, gained a chair, and sank into it. “Tell me now,” said he, in a faint whisper. “Be calm, Mr. Luttrell,” said Grenfell, gently. “I have no need to say, take courage.” Luttrell stared vacantly at him, his lips parted, and his whole expression that of one who was stunned and overcome. “Go on,” said he, in a hoarse whisper--“go on.” “Compose yourself first,” said Grenfell. “Is Harry--is he dead?” Grenfell made a faint motion of his head. “There--leave me--let me be alone!” said Luttrell, pointing to the door; and his words were spoken in a stern and imperative tone. Grenfell waited for a few seconds, and then withdrew noiselessly, and strolled out into the open air.