their eyes, when they looked at him, as a caress. VI When Nutley came again, a fortnight after the funeral, to his surprise he met Chase in the park with Thane, the greyhound, at his heels. “Good gracious,” he said, “I thought you were in Wolverhampton?” “So I was. I thought I’d come back to see how things were going on. I arrived two days ago.” “But I saw Fortune last week, and he never mentioned your coming,” pursued Mr. Nutley, mystified. “No, I daresay he didn’t; in point of fact, he knew nothing about it until I turned up here.” “What, you didn’t let the servants know?” “No, I didn’t,” Chase entered suddenly upon a definite dislike of Mr. Nutley. He felt a relief as soon as he had realized it; he felt more settled and definite in his mind, cleared of the cobwebs of a vague uneasiness. Nutley was too inquisitorial, too managing altogether. Blackboys was his own to come to, if he chose. Still his own—for another month. “What on earth have you got there?” said Nutley peering at a crumpled bunch that Chase carried in his hand. “Butcher-boys,” replied Chase. “They’re wild orchids,” said Mr. Nutley, after peering a little closer. “Why do you call them butcher-boys?” “That’s what the children call them,” mumbled Chase, “I don’t know them by any other name. Ugly things, anyhow,” he added, flinging them violently away. “Soft, soft,” said Nutley to himself, tapping his forehead as he walked on alone. He proceeded towards the house. Queer of Chase, to come back like that, without a word to anyone. What about that business of his in Wolverhampton? He seemed to be less anxious about that now. As though he couldn’t leave matters to Nutley and Farebrother, Solicitors and Estate Agents, without slipping back to see to things himself! Spying, no less. Queer, sly, silent fellow, mooning about the park, carrying wild orchids. “Butcher-boys,” he had called them. What children had he been consorting with, to learn that country name? There had been an odd look in his eye, too, when Nutley had come upon him, as though he were vexed at being seen, and would have liked to slink off in the opposite direction. Queer, too, that he should have made no reference to the approaching sale. He might at least have asked whether the estate office had received any private applications. But Nutley had already noticed that he took very little interest in the subject of the sale. An unsatisfactory employer, except in so far as he never interfered; it was unsatisfactory never to know whether one’s employer approved of what was being done or not.