Denville stood up, holding tightly by Claire's arm, and looking wildly from one to the other as a strange murmur rose amongst the fast-augmenting crowd. Then, as if it were vain to fight against the charge, he made a lurch forward, recovered himself, and sank into a chair, Richard Linnell catching sight of his ghastly countenance before he covered it with his hands. "It is a false charge, constable," cried Linnell hastily. "Take that man away." "It's all true," snarled Isaac, with drunken triumph. "Look at him. Let him say he didn't do it if he dare!" As every eye was fixed upon him, the Master of the Ceremonies did not move; he made no bold defiance, but seemed half paralysed by the bolt that had fallen--one from which his child had failed to screen him, though she had thrown herself upon his breast. Volume Three, Chapter XI. AFTER THE STORM. Matters ran their course rapidly during the following days. The black cloud that had so long been threatening had come down lower and nearer, and had at last poured forth its storm upon Denville's devoted head. And now, as he sat thinking, all that had passed seemed misty and dreamlike, and yet he knew that it was true. There was the finish of that terrible night, when, forced by the direct charge of his servant, the constable had taken steps against him. He had been arrested; there had been magisterial examinations, and appeals to him to declare his innocency; he, the magistrates' respected townsman, charged with this horrible crime by a drunken servant! But he had made no denial, only listened with a strange apathy, as if stunned, and ready to give up everything as hopeless. In fact, so willing did he seem to accept his position that, after examination and adjournment--one of which was really to give the broken-down, prostrate man an opportunity for making some defence--the magistrates had had no option but to commit the prisoner for trial. All Saltinville had been greatly concerned, and thus taken off the scent of the previous trouble at the Master of the Ceremonies' house. The departure of Frank Burnett from the town, and the state of his wife's health, became exceedingly secondary matters. Sir Harry Payne's wound was of no more importance than Lady Drelincourt's rheumatic fever, brought on by exposure on the Downs at her age. People forgot, too, to notice that Sir Matthew Bray was clear of his arrest, and to heed the rumour floating about at Miss Clode's, that Lady Drelincourt had paid Sir Matthew's debts, her affection for the big heavy dragoon having received a strong accession from the fact that her love was no longer divided, her overfed dog having died, evidently from plethora. Ordinary affairs were in abeyance, and everyone talked of Lady Teigne's murder, and metaphorically dug the old belle up again to investigate the affair, and, so to speak, hold a general inquest without the coroner's help.