Sir Gilbert’s words were in Everard’s mind as he drove through the wind and the rain. What had become of young Clare? Where and by whom had he been detained? Could any harm have befallen him? He did not believe much in the likelihood of his being at the vicarage all these hours; nevertheless, he would drive round there, although it would be more than a couple of miles out of his way, and should Clare chance to be there, he would give him a hint that the sooner he got back to the Chase the better it might be for him. But the missing delinquent was not at the vicarage. He had left there at his usual hour, and of his after-movements neither Mr. nor Mrs. Merton had any knowledge. “What if he has found his way to the _King’s Head_, and is still there?” said Everard to himself as the vicarage door was shut behind him. “In any case, it’s a point worth settling;” and with that he turned his horse’s head in the direction of Mapleford. Rumours of Luigi’s frequent visits to the billiard-room of the hotel in question had come to Lisle’s ears, for Mr. Lewis Clare, in virtue of his position as Sir Gilbert’s grandson, was a personage of some consequence in the little town, and his comings and goings were not merely noted, but freely commented upon. Everard’s surmise proved to be correct. He found Luigi at the _King’s Head_, but not in quite as sober a condition as he might have been. It was the birthday of Miss Jennings, the pretty barmaid, and it had seemed to him that the occasion was one which nothing less than champagne could do justice to. There were several other young men there who were of the same opinion as Mr. Clare—so long as the latter was willing to pay for the wine. The sudden apparition of Lisle turned Luigi cold from head to foot and had the effect of partially sobering him. He did not doubt for a moment that Sir Gilbert had sent for him, and his limbs shook under him as, without a word of farewell to his companions, he rose in obedience to Lisle’s beckoning finger and followed him into the open air. “Your grandfather is sitting up for you,” said Everard. “The longer you stay here, the longer you will keep him out of bed. Let me help you into the dog-cart.” “I dare not face him,” whimpered Luigi. “I’d almost sooner go and drown myself.” “But you can’t stay here all night,” urged Lisle. “You have been here far too long already, and I shall not go without taking you with me.” “He’ll turn me out neck and crop, I know he will,” moaned the other, with a clutch at Lisle’s sleeve to enable him to keep his balance. “Pooh! Don’t be a coward. Sir Gilbert’s bark, as you ought to know by this time, is far worse than his bite. He will give you a good jacketing, and serve you right, and there will be an end of it.” “Ah!—you don’t know him; you think you do, but you don’t,” said Luigi with the intense gravity of semi-inebriety. “Yes, I’d almost sooner drown myself than face him,” he whimpered for the second time.