The ex-valet would have demurred to being thus set aside, but the earl roaring “Go, you scoundrel!” in a voice he had been accustomed to obey, and Mr. Bonamy opening the door for him, he submitted and went. The streets were wet and gloomy, and he was more sober than he had been for a week. In other words, his nerves were shaky, and he soon began, as he slunk homeward, to torment himself with doubts. Had he made the best of his story? Might it not have been safer to make a last appeal to the rector? Above all, would Mr. Clode, whose game he did not understand, hold his hand, or play the trump by disclosing that little burglary we know of? Altogether Felton was not happy, and saw before him but one resource—to get home as quickly as possible and get drunk. Meanwhile the lawyer, left alone with his client, seemed as much averse as before to speaking out. Lord Dynmore had again to take the initiative. “Well, it is good enough, sir, is it not?” he said, frowning impatiently on his new adviser. “There is a clear case, I suppose!” “I think your lordship had better hear first,” Mr. Bonamy answered, “how your late servant came to bring his story to me.” He proceeded to explain the course which the young clergyman had pursued in the parish from the first, and the opposition and ill-will it had provoked. He told the story from his own point of view, but with more fairness than might have been expected, although, as was natural, when he came to the matter of the sheep-grazing and the writ he took care to make his own case good. The earl listened and chuckled, and at last interrupted him. “So you have been at him already?” he said, grinning. “Yes,” the lawyer answered slowly. “I may say, indeed, that I have been in constant opposition to him since his arrival. Felton (the man who has just left us) knew that, and it led him to bring his tale to me this evening.” “When he could get no more money out of the parson!” the earl replied with a sneer. “But, now, what is to be done, Mr. Bonamy?” Mr. Bonamy did not at once answer, but stood looking much disturbed. His doubt and uneasiness, in fact, visibly increased as the seconds flew by, and still Lord Dynmore’s gaze, bent on him at first in impatience and later in surprise, seemed to be striving to probe his thoughts. He looked down at the table and frowned, as if displeased by the scrutiny; and when he at length spoke, his voice was harsher than usual. “I do not think, my lord,” he said, “that I can answer that question.” “Do you want to take counsel’s opinion?” “No, my lord,” Mr. Bonamy answered curtly. “I mean something different. I do not think, in fact, that I can act for your lordship in this matter.” “Cannot act for me?” the earl gasped.