"Oh, I don't doubt that," returned the lawyer, as he put down his glass, and rose to depart with his clerk. The Doctor wished them good-morning there; Hubert Stone attended them to the outer door, and saw them drive away. "There's something about that Dr. Jago which I don't like," remarked Mr. Plackett to his companion as they bowled along through the park. "I've been used to studying character for a number of years, and that fellow seems to me to be double-faced. Did you notice what a dark, sinister smile he had?--nothing English or open about it." And Mr. Foxey assented, for he had not at all relished the events of the visit. "Fine property this, and no mistake," continued the lawyer, glancing from side to side as he drove along rapidly. "I was in hopes that _our_ Mr. Denison would have succeeded to it. A good thing that he is a philosopher: he don't mind it much." "With our client's income I think that even I could afford to be a philosopher," said the clerk, drily. "Aye, but there's an old proverb: 'Much would have more.' However, our side has lost the day, and it's no use crying over spilt milk. I cannot understand how it is that Miss Winter can be away at a time like this," he went on after a pause. "In fact, coupling what I've seen and heard to-day with that fellow Nixon's reports, I may go so far as to observe that there's something about the whole business which puzzles me, and which I don't half like." "But you have nothing tangible on which to ground your suspicions, have you, sir?" "No, that's the dickens of it!" acknowledged Mr. Charles Plackett. "It is something tangible that I want. At present I am fighting with shadows." Aaron Stone appeared to have recovered his temper in Nullington, for when he got back, in the course of the afternoon, he was in quite a blithe humour. Marching straight into the large kitchen, with his stick and umbrella, he called the two maids about him to unbutton his gaiters, and both stooped down to the task. "I saw them scoundrels o' lawyers a-driving through the town in their gig!" he cried, though he rarely condescended to address the girls, unless it was to scold. "Two of 'em sat in it. Nice rascals they looked--and a fine pace they went at!" Encouraged by this affability, Phemie responded in kind--telling him that the Squire had gone into such a passion while talking to the lawyers as to dash his beef-tea into the grate, cup and all--Hubert having mentioned this little episode to the gardener in the hearing of the servants; and the news so tickled old Aaron that he chuckled for half an hour. "I'd ha' done it myself--I'd ha' done it myself," he reiterated. "The Squire has got some proper spirit left in him yet." CHAPTER VI. SUDDEN TIDINGS.