"I expected you. Why didn't you go on sitting there with your back to the door?" "You saw me!" cried Hunt, coming in. "I saw your tracks. Hullo! Be good enough to step outside again." "I've come to talk to you----" "Quite so; but we'll talk outside." And Hunt had to go with what grace he might. Jack followed with a couple of camp-stools, pulled the door to, sat down on one of the stools, and motioned Hunt to the other. The great smooth face shook slowly in reply; and the moonlight showed a bulbous bruise between the eyes, which made its author frown and feel at fault. "Yes, you may look!" said Hunt through the gap in his set teeth which was a piece of the same handiwork. "You hit hard enough, but I can hit harder where it hurts more. A fine Duke _you_ are! Oh, yes; double your fists again--do. You won't hit me this time. There's no one looking on!" "Don't be too sure, my boy," replied Jack. "Don't you make any mistake!" Hunt stuck a foot upon his camp-stool and leant forward over his knee. "Recollect why you struck me to-night?" "Perfectly." "Well, I deserved it--for being such a fool as to say what I had to say at a time like that. It was the drink said it, not me; I apologise again for saying it there, I apologise to you and me too. I was keeping it to say here." "Out with it," said Jack, who to his own astonishment was preserving a perfect calm; as he spoke he began filling a pipe that he had brought out with the matches. "One thing at a time," said Hunt, producing a greasy bank-book. "I'll out with this first. You may have heard that the old Duke had a kind of weakness for my folks?" "I have heard something of the sort." "Then I'll trouble you to run your eye over this here pass-book. It belongs to my old dad. It'll show you his account with the London and Provincial Bank at Devenholme. It's a small account. This here book goes back over ten years, and there's some blank leaves yet. But look at it for yourself; keep your eye on the left-hand page from first to last; and you'll see what you'll see." Jack did so; and what he saw on every left-hand page was this: "per Maitland, £50." There were other entries, "by cheque" and "by cash," but they were few and small. Clearly Maitland was the backbone of the account; and a closer inspection revealed the further fact that his name appeared punctually every quarter, and always in connection with the sum of fifty pounds received. "Ever heard of Maitland, Hollis, Cripps and Co.?" inquired Hunt. Jack started; so this was the Maitland. "They are my solicitors," he said. "They were the old Duke's too," replied Hunt. "Now have a look at the other side of the account. You know the Lower Farm; then look and see what we pay for rent." "I know the figure," said Jack, handing back the pass-book. "It is half the value."