"Frank was caned by the butler, I remember; by Lord Talgarth's express orders. Certainly he richly deserved it. I was a guest, and got off clear." "How old were you?" "We were both about eleven, I think." "Frank doesn't strike me as more than about twelve now," observed Jenny. "There's something in that," admitted Jack.... "Oh! Lord! how hot it is!" He fanned himself with his hat. * * * * * There was no sign of life as they passed into the court and up to the pillared portico; and at last, when the butler appeared, the irregular state of his coat-collar showed plainly that he but that moment had put his coat on. (This would be about the time that Frank left the village after his interview with the priest.) Yes; it seemed that Lord Talgarth was probably in the garden; and, if so, almost certainly in the little square among the yews along the upper terrace. His lordship usually went there on hot days. Would Miss Launton and Mr. Kirkby kindly step this way? No; he was not to trouble. They would find their own way. On the upper terrace? "On the upper terrace, miss." * * * * * The upper terrace was the one part of the old Elizabethan garden left entirely unaltered. On either side rose up a giant wall of yew, shaped like a castle bastion, at least ten feet thick; and between the two ran a broad gravel path up to the sun-dial, bordered on either side by huge herbaceous beds, blazing with the color of late summer. In two or three places grass paths crossed these, leading by a few yards of turf to windows cut in the hedge to give a view of the long, dazzling lake below, and there was one gravel path, parallel to these, that led to the little yew-framed square built out on the slope of the hill. Two very silent persons now came out from the house by the garden door on the south side, turned along the path, went up a dozen broad steps, passed up the yew walk and finally turned again down the short gravel way and stood abashed. His lordship was indeed here! A long wicker chair was set in one angle, facing them, in such a position that the movement of the sun would not affect the delightful shade in which the chair stood. A small table stood beside it, with the _Times_ newspaper tumbled on to it, a box of cigars, a spirit-bottle of iridescent glass, a syphon, and a tall tumbler in which a little ice lay crumbled at the bottom. And in the wicker chair, with his mouth wide open, slept Lord Talgarth. "Good gracious!" whispered Jenny. There was a silence, and then like far-off thunder a slow meditative snore. It was not an object of beauty or dignity that they looked upon. "In one second I shall laugh," asserted Jenny, still in a cautious whisper.