It was growing too dusk to distinguish objects; the moon as yet did not give much light; but Sir Simon stooped, and peered about with the utmost interest. Suddenly he rose and confronted them. "Now, look here, you fellows! I dare say it was an accident; the boy got fingering the pistol, and it went off; he's not so much to blame for that. What he is to blame for, is the not confessing; it's dishonourable, mean, despicable; and for that he deserves no quarter. Try to find him out, boys; hunt him up; run him down; surely a stray word or a chance look may guide you to him. And whoever succeeds in bringing the truth to light, may come to me for the handsomest gold watch that is to be bought with money." A deafening shout arose. In the midst of it the three strokes of the great bell were heard, calling the boys to evening study. They set off with a bound, all except Trace, who found himself detained by the hand of his uncle until the rest were out of hearing. "Raymond, if mischief comes of this matter, it will be through you." "Through me!" repeated Trace, taken thoroughly aback. "Can you suppose, sir, I went shares with Bertie in buying the pistols? Or that I knew of his bringing them to school, loaded?" "Not that. I am speaking of the other matter—Paradyne's. You are bitter against the very name of Paradyne; and I don't say you have no cause. But now, take my advice, Raymond. Do you hear me?" "Yes, sir." "Don't be the one to stir up the past against the boy. I have a feeling against it." Sir Simon, leaving his words to tell, walked away towards home, and Trace stood looking after him, resenting the injunction. He was not a favourite, and he knew it; even that despicable Dick was preferred to him. As a matter of affection, perhaps Trace did not regret this; but his policy in life was to stand well with all. The tolerating of George Paradyne was an uncommonly bitter pill to swallow; and Trace would have given the world to reject it. But he scarcely saw his way clear to do this, if he wished to keep friends with his uncle. And Trace threw a gratuitous and by no means complimentary word at the unfortunate boy, as he went off to be in time for his studies. Scarcely was he out of sight, when Miss Brabazon came quietly up through the trees. She had put on a cloak and hood; and, as she threw back the latter her face looked white with a curious fear. Searching here, bending there, she seemed to be seeking for some traces of the last night's work. Now she bent her ear and listened, now she knelt down by the bench, feeling under it and about it. One might almost have thought she was seeking for a letter. So pre-occupied was she as not to hear the sound of footsteps. "What are you looking for, Emma?" The interruption was from Dr. Brabazon, who happened to be passing through the plantation. Emma started up with a cry. "What is it, my dear? What are you doing here?"