“_He_ keep out of the way!” cried Repton; “you never mistook a man more in your life!” “You are acquainted with him, then?” said Nelligan, in amazement. “That am I, sir. No one knows him better, and on my knowledge of the man it was that I apologized for his incivility to yourself. If I cannot say more, Mr. Nelligan, it is not because I have any mistrust in your confidence, but that my friend's secret is, in his own charge, and only to be revealed at his own pleasure.” “I wish you would tell him that I never meant to play the spy upon him,--that my remark was a merely chance observation--” “I promise you to do so,” broke in Repton. “I promise you still more, that before he leaves this you shall have an apology from his own lips for his accidental rudeness; nay, two men that would know how to respect each other should never part under even a passing misunderstanding. It is an old theory of mine, Mr. Nelligan, that good men's good opinions of us form the pleasantest store of our reminiscences, and I 'd willingly go a hundred miles to remove a misconception that might bring me back to the esteem of an honorable heart, though I never were to set eyes again on him who possessed it.” “I like your theory well, sir,” said Nelligan, cordially. “You 'll find the practice will reward you,” said Repton. “I confess this stranger has inspired me with great curiosity.” “I can well understand the feeling,” said Repton, musing. “It is with men as with certain spots in landscape, there are chance glimpses which suggest to us the fair scenes that lie beyond our view! Poor fellow! poor fellow!” muttered he once or twice to himself; and then starting abruptly, said, “You have made me so cordially welcome here that I am going to profit by every privilege of a guest. I 'm going to say good-night, for I have much before me on the morrow.” CHAPTER XXXV. HOW DIPLOMACY FAILED Repton was up at daybreak, and at his desk. Immense folios littered the table, and even the floor around him, and the old lawyer sat amidst a chaos that it was difficult to believe was only the growth of an hour or two. All the intentness of his occupation, however, did not prevent him hearing a well-known voice in the little stable-yard beneath his window, and opening the sash he called out, “Mas-singbred, is that you?” “Ah, Mr. Repton, are you stirring so early? I had not expected to see you for at least two hours to come. May I join you?” “By all means; at once,” was the answer. And the next moment they were together. “Where's Barry? When did you see him last?” was Repton's first question.