"I know nothing about the rights of it one way or the other," he said at last. "But some of the men up at the mills and in my place still remember Tom Sinnett's affair. Only the other night, as Sir Winterton drove by, one of them shouted out, 'Where's Susy Sinnett?'" Quisante went on sorting papers and did not turn round. "Who the deuce is Susy Sinnett?" he asked indifferently, with a laugh. "It was about five years ago--before Sir Winterton's split with the Liberals. Tom was a keeper in Sir Winterton's employ, and Sir Winterton charged him with netting game and sending it to London on his own account." Foster's narrative ceased and he looked again at his candidate's back. The papers rustled and the cigar smoke mounted to the ceiling. "Well?" said Quisante. "Tom was found guilty at Sessions; but in the dock he declared Sir Winterton had trumped up the charge to shut his mouth." "What about?" "Well, because he'd found Sir Winterton dangling after Susy, and threatened to break his head if he found him there again." He paused, Quisante made no comment. "Tom got nine months, and when he came out all the family emigrated to Manitoba." After a short pause, filled by the arrangement of papers, Quisante observed, "That must have cost money. He'd saved out of what he got for the game, eh?" "It was supposed Sir Winterton found the money," said Foster, "but nothing was known. Sir Winterton refused to make any statement. He said his friends would know what to think, and he didn't care a damn (that was his word) about anybody else. Still some weren't satisfied. But the talk died away, except here and there among the men who'd been Tom's pals. I daresay Tom gave 'em a rabbit now and again in exchange for a pot of beer, and they missed him." Mr. Foster ended with a little chuckle. "I think Sir Winterton might have been a little more explicit," Quisante remarked. "There's some excuse for thinking an explanation not unnecessary. What became of the girl? Did she go to Manitoba?" "I believe she did in the end, but she'd married a man from Dunn's works and left the town three months after her father was sent to prison." Quisante came back to the hearth and stood looking down on old Foster. "Rather a queer story," he said. "But I meant, was there anything against him of a public nature, in his local record, anything of that sort, you know." "I know nothing of that kind," said Foster, raising his eyes and meeting his leader's. He looked rather puzzled, as if he were still not quite sure what Quisante's question had meant, in spite of Quisante's explanation of it. "I'd almost forgotten this, but Japhet Williams mentioned it the other day. You know Japhet by now. He said he thought he ought to ask Sir Winterton to make a statement." A sudden gleam shot through Quisante's eyes. "Mr. Williams' active conscience at work again?" he asked with a sneering laugh.