His appearance now, therefore, was almost as welcome as it was unexpected. Yet from some cause, probably the lateness of the hour, though that seems improbable, there was a visible embarrassment in the lawyer’s manner as he recognized him; and Mr. Bonamy only stepped aside to make way for him to enter upon hearing from his own lips that he desired to speak with him. Then he opened the door of the room on the left of the hall. “If your lordship will take a seat here,” he said, “I will be with you in a moment.” The room was in darkness, but he struck a match and lit the gas, placing a chair for Lord Dynmore, who, fretting and fuming and more than half inclined as he took it to walk out again, said sharply that he had only a minute to spare. “I shall not be a minute, my lord,” the lawyer answered. He retired at once with that, closing the door behind him, and went, as his visitor could hear, into the opposite room. Lord Dynmore looked round impatiently. He had not so high as opinion of his own importance as have some who are no peers. But he was choleric and accustomed to have his own way, and he thought that at least this local man whom he was going to patronize might receive him with more respect. Mr. Bonamy, however, was as good as his word. In less than a minute he was back. Closing the door carefully behind him, he sat down at the table. “I am entirely at your lordship’s service now,” he said, bowing slightly. The earl laid his hat on the table. “Very well,” he answered abruptly. “I have heard that you are a sharp fellow, Mr. Bonamy, and a good lawyer, and that is why I have come to you—that and the fact that my business will not wait and I have a mind to punish those confounded London people who have let me into this mess!” That it was rather impatience than anything else which had brought him he betrayed by getting up and striding across the room. Meanwhile the lawyer, golden visions of bulky settlements and interminable leases floating before his eyes, murmured his anxiety to be of service, and waited to hear more. “It is about that confounded sneak of a rector of yours!” my lord exclaimed, coming to a stand before the table. Mr. Bonamy started, his visions fading rapidly away. “What rector?” he replied, gazing at his client in great astonishment. “Our rector, my lord?” “The man who calls himself your rector!” the earl growled. “He is no more a rector than I am, and pretty fools you were to be taken in by him!” “Now that is odd!” the lawyer answered. He spoke absently, his eyes resting on the peer’s face as if his thoughts were far away. “Odd or not,” Lord Dynmore replied, stamping on the floor with undiminished irritation, “it is the fact, sir! And now if you will listen to me I will tell you what I want you to do.”