He rose and stood with his back to the fire, and as he waited, his eyes on the door, his face grew hot, his brow defiant. He had little doubt that the visitor was Clode. He had expected the curate before, and even anticipated the relief of pouring his thoughts into a friendly ear. None the less, now the thing had come, he dreaded the first moment of meeting, scarcely knowing how to bear himself in these changed circumstances. It was not Clode, however, who entered, but Jack Smith. The rector started, and, uncertain whether the barrister had heard of the blow which had fallen on him or no, stepped forward awkwardly, and held out his hand in a constrained fashion. Jack, on his side, had his own reasons for being ill at ease with his friend. But the moment the men’s hands met they somehow closed on one another in the old hearty fashion, and the grip told the rector that the other knew all. “You have heard?” he muttered. “Mr. Bonamy told me,” the barrister answered. “I came across almost at once.” “You do not believe that I was aware of the earl’s mistake, then?” Lindo said, with a faint smile. “I should as soon believe that I knew of it myself!” Jack replied warmly. He was glad beyond measure now that he had come. As he and Lindo stood half facing one another, each with an elbow on the mantel-shelf, he felt that he could defy the chill at his own heart—that, notwithstanding all, his old friend was still dear to him. Perhaps if the rector had been prospering as before, if no cloud had arisen in his sky, it might have been different. But as it was, Jack’s generous heart went out to him. “Tell me what happened, old fellow,” he said cheerily—“that is, if you have no objection to taking me into your confidence.” “I shall be only too glad of your help,” Lindo answered thankfully, feeling indeed—so potent is a single word of sympathy—happier already. “I would ask you to sit down, Jack,” he continued, in a tone of rather sheepish raillery, “and have a cup of coffee or some whiskey, but I do not know whether I ought to do so, now that Lord Dynmore says the things are not mine.” “I will take the responsibility,” Jack answered, briskly ringing the bell. “Was my lord very rude?”