‘There are some misunderstandings about yourself--some prejudices. They don’t like absentee owners here, and that’s a fact. But I’m sure that impression will soon be effaced, now that you are here yourself. If you show them that you don’t mean play----’ Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. ‘_Mon Dieu!_ There does not seem to be much question of play. I never saw anything so oppressively in earnest as every one here seems to be. It is stamped upon almost every face you meet. Certainly I am not in play.’ ‘Then they will soon find that out, and respect you accordingly.’ ‘But that is not all you were going to say?’ ‘It may seem a small kind of complaint to make; but it’s better to let you know the truth at once. There certainly is a feeling against Mrs. Mallory.’ Sebastian looked up in surprise. ‘Against my mother? What has she to do with it?’ ‘A feeling that she is not sufficiently liberal in her ideas, and that she would, if she could get the authority, interfere unduly in matters which, with the utmost respect to her, she does not understand, never having had occasion to study them. I am bound to say that, though I have never had anything like a dispute with Mrs. Mallory, yet that is my own impression too, and that is one reason why I rejoice at your return. You are now the final authority.’ The murder was out, and Mr. Sutcliffe’s shrewd eyes watched the young man’s face attentively. He did not look angry, did not look even annoyed, but rather thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, ‘I am glad you mentioned it. Of course that is not a topic for discussion. As you said, my presence will make all the difference. Is that all about my own works?’ ‘Yes. I don’t think there is anything else.’ ‘Who are the leading men here?’ ‘So far as money goes, there are a good many big men here. Mr. Spenceley is reported to be the richest, and I believe report is right.’ ‘Spenceley! Ah! What about him?’ ‘He is a spinner; does an enormous trade. They say he has been speculating rather too much lately. He has a certain influence in some quarters, but it is an influence that will die with him.’ ‘How so?’ ‘He has only a son and a daughter, and the son is probably the biggest blackguard in the place; he will never have any influence. The daughter, I hear, is rather an eccentric young lady.’ ‘Oh!’ was all Sebastian said. Mr. Sutcliffe went on, ‘The son I believe, is a very black sheep. It was only a week or two ago that he insulted some young woman--in a small place, you see, these things make a good deal of noise--in a most abominable manner; but he was punished for that, for the girl’s sweetheart--at least that is one of the tales, I don’t believe it myself; but one thing is quite certain, a young working-man followed him to his club that very night, and gave him a good hiding in the billiard-room. No one, I don’t think one soul, was sorry for him. The feeling was so dead against him that he did not even prosecute.’