"'April 8th. Nothing fresh. Jago daily at the Hall. The Squire still invisible to the outer world. No visitors have been admitted for a long while.'" Mr. Denison, having come to the last extract he deemed it needful to read, shut up his case, and looked at his son. "Like the agent Nixon, I must say that I do not see much in all this myself," observed Frank. "Don't you!" retorted his father. "I do, then. To me it looks remarkably unaccountable. There is a mystery about it that I can't fathom, and Charles Plackett has my instructions to go down to Heron Dyke." "What to do, sir?" "To see my cousin Gilbert, and satisfy himself by ocular demonstration that he is still alive, and--and mentally sane. You look surprised, Frank; let me tell you what perhaps you never knew before--that there is a clause in old Uncle Gilbert's will which empowers me to take the step in question." "Is there! How curious that he should have made it." "A great deal that he did was curious. But, for my part, I think some prevision was upon him that such a clause might be needed. I tell you, Frank," concluded the old gentleman, "that I am strangely curious myself, just now, as to what may be doing at Heron Dyke." On this warm and sunny morning of the twenty-fourth of April, the bells of Nullington parish church rang forth a merry peal. They continued to do so at intervals throughout the day. The Vicar of Nullington, who had given the orders, was rejoiced to think that his old friend, Squire Denison, had lived to reach, what might be called, the crowning day of his life. Throughout the length and breadth of Nullington the stagnation of every-day life seemed stirred by a ripple of excitement. People came to their doors to listen to the bells, groups in earnest conversation might be seen at the corner of almost every street, neighbour looked in upon neighbour, customers lingered longer than usual in the shops, bar-parlours held their knots of eager gossipers. Not an inhabitant of the little town but knew that this was the twenty-fourth of April, and if the Master of Heron Dyke should live to hear the clocks strike noon, houses and land and all that pertained thereto would become his own irrevocable property, and the great battle of his life would end in his remaining the victor.