"It's gone--gone--gone!" muttered the Squire. "Lost to us, Rupert! But we're not the masters of Grange now, you and I; we're safe, Rupert, we're safe. It can't fall on your head now--It can't overwhelm--stay!" Almost with a yell the Squire started up. "The formal deeds are not signed yet. I forgot that! The provisional transfer _should_ suffice. Does it? Does it? Pergamen may not be carrying out my instructions! He may have destroyed the declaration; but he would not dare to destroy a deed. He may be fooling me--temporizing. And then the danger may _not_ have passed away!" [Illustration: "TRIED TO PEEP IN THROUGH THE SHOP WINDOW."] Again he caught up the boy, and stood as if at bay, shielding little Rupert. "I must see Pergamen," he muttered. "Now--where can he be?" There was a tap at the shop door. The Squire snatched up his grey overcoat and flung it over the child, and stood, white and rigid, in front of him. But it was Mr. Pergamen at the door; and he was admitted and the shop door hastily locked again. And the Squire slipped into the parlour before the solicitor, and took up his guard in front of the child. The deeds _were_ being prepared, but the thing could not be completed at a moment's notice. Next day the Squire was searching again, all over the house, in the back yard, among the empty packing-cases and tea-boxes, on the dust-heap; again it was evening before he gave over and sank down on the sofa, but his mind seemed a little more at rest now. At length the formal deed of transfer was duly completed, and signed, and witnessed, and then the Squire gave a great sigh of relief, and a burden seemed to fall from him. He did not draw little Rupert back and cover him when the child advanced to talk to the solicitor and be taken on his knee, according to custom and usage dating from a few months later than Rupert's appearance in the world. Then the three started off to show the completed deed to John Puddifoot, sole master of Grange. On the way they overtook Mrs. Wriggs, the housekeeper, returning from the village: the Squire stopped her flood of lamentations with a gesture. She dropped behind them; but presently came up and said:-- "Oh, Sir Rupert--I thought I had better mention it, perhaps--John tells me that he saw Mr. Puddifoot, the grocer, hand over some of the trifles he bought at the sale to Benton, the old labourer, and he _thinks_ there was a little flat case among them." "Ah--just so. It was a very trifling matter, Mrs. Wriggs; and I had forgotten all about it," said the Squire, hurriedly and unnaturally. * * * * * There was a strange commotion in the manor house: the servants were in the square hall bending over something lying on the oak floor. John Puddifoot had fallen from the top of the great well staircase--he was dead! Hurriedly the Squire took off the grey overcoat and threw it over the body, to keep the sight of death from the child.