As he did so, the watch dogs began to howl in a most horrible and hideous manner! The stranger heard it. His face turned to an ashy paleness, as he thought—— “That dismal howling, I have been told, is always looked upon by superstitious country people as an omen of death!” It _was_ an omen of death! CHAPTER II. FARMER BERTRAM RECEIVES A VISIT FROM BOLTON—BOLTON’S TREACHERY. Farmer Bertram was in bed when the stranger entered, having had a fall from his horse while hunting. The horseman said his business was of such pressing importance that he must see the farmer at once. Bertram recognized the name, and directed his old servant to admit the stranger to his chamber at once. “From Mr. Redgill, I believe?” said the farmer. “Are you his son? Excuse me not rising to receive you, but I am unwell. I intended to go to London in a day or two, and settle with Mr. Redgill at once, for I have collected all my rents, and sold my crops to advantage, so that I have got a good bit of ready money by me, much more than will pay off the last instalment of the mortgage he holds against me. Let me see,” said the farmer, opening a writing-desk near his bedside, “Let me see, here are the receipts; yes, one signed for £300, a second for £200, and a third for £1,000, and now I owe him £2,000 more. What a striking likeness there is between you and Mr. Redgill, though; now I come to look at you in a clear light, I would have sworn that you were his son.” “Indeed!” laughed the young stranger, in an uneasy manner. “You have detected a likeness; most people say the same; but I am _not_ his son, and, what is more, no relation either. You have heard of young Bolton, Mr. Redgill’s travelling and collecting clerk? Well, _I_ am he.” “And is Redgill in such a hurry for his money that he has sent you to collect it? Why, he expressly told me to use my own time, and call myself with it whenever I liked. I’m sure I have always been punctual with him.” “I do _not_ come for the money by any means,” said Bolton; “Mr. Redgill would not so insult you as to distrust your well-known honesty.” “Because, if even you _did_ call for the money, I should not have given it to you,” said the old man, smiling, “£2,000 can’t be trusted in everybody’s hands, you know, and although you may be as you say, Mr. Bolton, Redgill’s travelling and collecting clerk, _I_ am not to know that; _I_ have never seen you before, as I know of.” “True,” said the stranger, smiling blandly; “I commend your prudence, Farmer Bertram; but the truth is, I was travelling to Portsmouth on business for Mr. Redgill, and stopped to bait my horse at the ‘Black Bull,’ and found some of your labourers enjoying themselves.” “Yes, I gave them a treat to-night as it’s my birthday. I would have gone among them myself, only I felt very much upset by the wild behaviour of my only son Robert.” “Exactly, and it’s about _him_ that I have come so far out of my way, in order to inform you of him, and to _warn_ you.”