"Sir Willoughby’s? I met him several times walking in that neighbourhood, but I don’t think he went to the Hall. He did not appear to know Sir Willoughby.--And yet, sir, I remember now that I heard Diggle and Grinsell talking about the Squire the night I first saw them together at the _Four Alls_." "And you were with this--Diggle, in London, Mr. Burke?" "Yes, sir." Desmond began to feel uncomfortable. Clive had evidently not recognized him before, and he was hoping that the unfortunate incident in Billiter Street would not be recalled. Clive’s next words made him wish to sink into the floor. "Do you remember, Mr. Burke, in London, throwing yourself in the way of a gentleman that was in pursuit of your friend Mr. Diggle, and bringing him to the ground?" "Yes, sir, I did, and I am sorry for it." Desmond did not like the grim tone of Clive’s voice; he wished he would address him as "my lad" instead of "Mr. Burke." "That was a bad start, let me say, Mr. Burke--an uncommonly bad start." "Oh come, Mr. Clive!" broke in Mr. Merriman, "say no more about that. The boy was in bad company: ’twas not his fault. In truth, ’twas my own fault: I am impetuous; the sight of that scoundrel was too much for me. I bear you no grudge, my lad, though I had a bump on my head for a week afterwards. Had you not tripped me I should have run my rapier through the villain, and there would like have been an end of me." "Shall I tell the boy, Mr. Merriman?" said Clive in an undertone. "Not now, not now," said Merriman quickly. The other gentlemen, during this dialogue, had been discussing the information they had gained about Gheria. "Well," said Clive, "you are lucky, let me tell you, Mr. Burke, to be out of this Diggle’s clutches. By the way, have you seen him since he sold you to the Pirate?" "He came a few days before I escaped, and wanted me to come here as a spy. Angria promised me my freedom and a large sum of money." "What’s that?" cried Merriman. "Wanted you to come as a spy?" "Yes, sir." "And what did you say?" "I told him he might do it himself." "A palpable hit!" said Merriman with a grim laugh, "and a very proper answer. But he’ll have more respect for his skin." "Gentlemen," put in Mr. Bourchier, "we have kept Mr. Burke talking so much that he hasn’t had a mouthful of food. I think we might go out on the veranda and smoke our cheroots while he takes some supper. Mr. Johnson, you’ve done most justice to my viands, I think. Perhaps you will join us." The superintendent became purple in the face. He had in fact been eating and drinking with great gusto, taking advantage of the preoccupation of the company to ensure that the excellent fare should not be wasted. He rose hurriedly, and, with a sheepish look that scarcely fitted his cheerful features, followed his sarcastic host to the veranda. All the guests save Mr. Merriman accompanied Mr. Bourchier.