"He knows more--in a sort of antiquarian and historian fashion--than you'd suppose a young man of his age would," said Mrs. Greyle. "He gives you the impression of having read it up--studied it deeply. And--his usual tastes don't lie in that direction." "Ah!" observed Mr. Dennie, musingly. "Bad sign, ma'am,--bad sign! Looks as if he had been--shall we say put up to overstudying his part. That's possible! I have known men who were so anxious to be what one calls letter-perfect, Mr. Copplestone, that though they knew their parts, they didn't know how to play them. Fact, sir!" While the old actor was chuckling over this reminiscence, Gilling turned quietly to Mrs. Greyle. "I think you suspect this man?" he said. "Frankly--yes," replied Mrs. Greyle. "I always have done, though I have said so little--" "Mother!" interrupted Audrey. "Is it really worth while saying so much now! After all, we know nothing, and if this is all mere supposition--however," she broke off, rising and going away from the group, "perhaps I had better say nothing." Copplestone too rose and followed her into the window recess. "I say!" he said entreatingly. "I hope you don't think me interfering? I assure you--" "You!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no!--of course. I think you're anxious to clear things up about Mr. Oliver. But I don't want my mother dragged into it--for a simple reason. We've got to live here--and Chatfield is a vindictive man." "You're frightened of him?" said Copplestone incredulously. "You!" "Not for myself," she answered, giving him a warning look and glancing apprehensively at Mrs. Greyle, who was talking eagerly to Mr. Dennie and Gilling. "But my mother is not as strong as she looks and it would be a blow to her to leave this place and we are the Squire's tenants, and therefore at Chatfield's mercy. And you know that Chatfield does as he likes! Now do you understand?" "It maddens me to think that you should be at Chatfield's mercy!" muttered Copplestone. "But do you really mean to say that if--if Chatfield thought you--that is, your mother--were mixed up in anything relating to the clearing up of this affair he would--" "Drive us out without mercy," replied Audrey. "That's dead certain." "And that your cousin would let him?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Surely not!" "I don't think the Squire has any control over Chatfield," she answered. "You have seen them together." "If that's so," said Copplestone, "I shall begin to think there is something queer about the Squire in the way your mother suggests. It looks as if Chatfield had a hold on him. And in that case--" He suddenly broke off as a smart automobile drove up to the cottage door and set down a tall, distinguished-looking man who after a glance at the little house walked quickly up the garden. Audrey's face showed surprise. "Mother!" she said, turning to Mrs. Greyle. "There's Lord Altmore here! He must want you. Or shall I go?"