"In two or three days. Now let us go out for a walk--to the vicarage if you like. I can't stay indoors worrying over things which at present I cannot remedy. Come!" "Won't it be better for us to have another look at the will before we go?" "I don't think so. I know the will by heart, and have locked it safely away, Carrington. It disinherits Frederick, from whom I am descended, legally enough; and if the lawyers are of the same opinion with their larger knowledge, why then my cousin must enter into his own." "There is the Statute of Limitations, you know," hinted Carrington pointedly. "I shall take advantage of that and of anything else if I can do so consistently with my honor. But what is the use of arguing?" said Hendle with a burst of bitterness, for the position pained him greatly. "We can do nothing just now. Let us go for a walk." Carrington was too politic to press the matter further, as he saw how the Squire winced. But he had by no means given up the hope of inducing Hendle to refrain from publishing the possible loss of his estates, and intended to talk about the affair when the young man was more off his guard. Now with diplomatic skill bred from years of experience of shady doings, he put on his straw hat and sauntered out of doors along with his host, talking of many matters which had nothing to do with the burning question of the disputed inheritance. But as they walked down the avenue Carrington spoke of a matter which really interested him. And that was of a qualm he felt when passing under the spreading branches of the oaks. He had felt that qualm before when he had first visited Barship, and in the same place. "I'm walking over my grave again," he muttered uneasily, and although he would not confess to superstition, the coincidence struck him as disagreeable. "What's that?" asked Rupert absently. He had been busy with his own painful thoughts and had not paid much attention to his companion's light nothings. "You know the saying that when one shivers, or has what the Scotch call a grue, one is walking over one's grave. Well, I had some such uncanny feeling in this very avenue when I came to see you first, and now, hang it all, I have it again. I don't like it." Hendle, now more attentive, laughed. "A lawyer and superstitious?" "Oh, bosh! I am not in the least superstitious. But there are some things which are hard to explain. It's gone!" Carrington wiped his perspiring face and looked round with an air of relief. "What's gone?" "That feeling of walking over my own grave." "Rubbish!" said Hendle, who was much too stolid to believe in such things. "I expect it was only a sudden chill." "I dare say, although it is odd that I should get a chill in this blazing sunshine," muttered the barrister, who was more impressed than he cared to admit. "But there are more things in heaven and earth----" "What a well-worn quotation! You need bucking up. Come into the inn and we will each have a tankard."