"I suppose you want me to tell the story, instead of yourself," said Robert Carr, with a glance and a smile at Mr. Arkell. "Mr. Prattleton was on the spot, and instituted the search, so _his_ information cannot be secondhand." They began it between them, but Mr. Arkell gradually ceased, and left it to Robert Carr. It appeared to take a singular hold on the squire's interest. He had just asked his son for more ham, but was too absorbed to send his plate for it. Ben held the slice between his knife and fork, and had to let it drop at last. "Then he was not murdered!" exclaimed Mrs. Lewis. "It was only a case of drowning, after all!" "Of drowning," assented Robert Carr. "At least that is the most probable supposition." "It may rather be called at present a case of mysterious disappearance, as the sensational weekly papers would phrase it," interposed Mr. Arkell, speaking again. "Mrs. Dundyke at one time felt convinced that a murder had been committed, as Mr. Prattleton tells me, and afterwards modified her opinion. Now she feels her doubts renewed again." "What a shocking thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Lewis. "And who does she think murdered him--if he was murdered?" "The Mr. Hardcastle of whom mention has been made. Mrs. Dundyke has discovered that he was an impostor." "Has she!" exclaimed Robert Carr. "Mr. Prattleton heard from her by last evening's post, and he came in late, and showed me her letters," said Mr. Arkell. "This man, Hardcastle, had passed himself off as being a partner of the great Hardcastle house in Leadenhall-street--a nephew of its head and chief--whereas he turns out to be entirely unknown to them." "And she thinks he did the murder?" quickly cried Mrs. Lewis, who was possessed of all a woman's curiosity on such subjects. "She thinks the suspicions look very dark against him," said Mr. Arkell. "I confess I think the same." "But I thought Mr. Carr, here, said she had completely exonerated this Mr. Hardcastle!" cried the squire. "Be quiet, Emma; you would let nobody speak but yourself, if you had your way." "So I believe she did exonerate him," returned Mr. Arkell; "but in all cases the same facts wear so different an aspect, according to their attendant surroundings. When Mr. Hardcastle was supposed to _be_ Mr. Hardcastle, one of the chief partners of the great East India house, the nephew of its many-years' chief, it was almost impossible to suppose that he _could_ have committed the murder, however little trifling circumstances might seem to give point to the suspicion. But when we know that this man was not Mr. Hardcastle, but an impostor--probably a _chevalier d'industrie_, travelling about to see what prey he could bring down--those same trifling circumstances change into alarming facts, every one of which bears its own significance." "I don't clearly understand what the facts were," said the squire. "He borrowed money, didn't he?"