They talked for a little while of indifferent subjects, and then Lord Cheriton proposed a stroll in the direction of the well. “I should like to see whether those fellows have begun work,” he said. The old garden looked its sleepiest in the westering sunlight, but there was business going on there nevertheless, and a great heap of damp clay had been flung out by the side of the low brick parapet. Two men were at work below, and there were two men above, while a fifth, a foreman and leading light, looked on and gave directions. “Glad to see you’ve tackled the job, Carter,” said Lord Cheriton. “Yes, my lord, we’ve got on to it pretty well. Could I have a word with your lordship?” “Certainly, as many words as you like. How mysterious you look, Carter! There is nothing in your communication that Mr. Dalbrook is not to hear, I suppose?” “No, my lord, Mr. Dalbrook don’t matter; but I thought you wouldn’t care for everybody to know, lest it should get round to her ladyship, and give her a scare.” “What are you driving at, Carter, with your ladyships and your scares? Have you seen a ghost at the bottom of the well?” “No, my lord, but the men found this in the surface clay, and I thought it might have some bearing upon—last year—the murder.” He dropped out his words hesitatingly, as if he hardly dared approach that ghastly theme, and then took something out of his jacket pocket, and handed it to Lord Cheriton. It was a Colt’s revolver, by no means of the newest make, rusted by lying long under water. The foreman had amused his leisure since the discovery in trying to rub off the rust with a large cotton handkerchief, assisted by his corduroy coat-sleeve, and had succeeded in polishing a small silver plate upon the butt of the pistol so as to make the initials “T. D.” engraved upon it easily decipherable. There was not much in the discovery perhaps; but by the ghastly change in Lord Cheriton’s face Theodore saw that to him at least it appeared of fatal significance. His hand shook as it held the pistol, his eyes had a look of absolute horror as they scrutinized it; and nothing could be more obvious than the effort with which he controlled his agitation, and looked from the builder’s foreman to Theodore with an assumption of tranquillity. “It may mean much, or nothing, Carter,” he said, putting the pistol in his coat pocket. “It was quite right of you to bring the matter before me.” “I thought the initials on the pistol might lead to something being found out, my lord,” said the foreman. “I don’t think there can be much doubt the murderer chucked it in there.”