"Augh! augh, sir!" said Kerry, touching his hat in military fashion. "It's a sight for sore eyes to see ye. Miss Jenny told me you had walked over from the station, so I just borrowed the trap of his riverence, the vicar, to take you back." "That is very kind of you, Kerry," replied Hilliston, in his most genial manner; "I am glad to accept your offer and escape the walk. You drive and I'll sit beside you." Kerry did as he was told, and in a few minutes the trap containing the pair was rattling through the street at a good pace. Shortly they left the village behind and emerged into the open country. The road wound to right and left, past farmhouses, under bending trees, behind hedgerows, and occasionally passed over a stone bridge spanning a trickling brook matted with cresses. All this time neither of them had spoken, as each was seemingly wrapped up in his own thoughts, but as a matter of fact they were thinking of each other. Kerry wished to speak to Hilliston, but did not know how to begin; while Hilliston was in the same predicament regarding Kerry. It was the latter who finally began the conversation, and he did so in a way which would have startled a less brave man than the lawyer. At the moment they were crossing a rather broad stream with a swift current, and Kerry pulled up the pony midway between the parapets of stone which protected the sides of the rude bridge. Rather astonished at this stoppage, for which he could assign no reason, Hilliston roused himself from his musings and looked inquiringly at Kerry. The man's eyes, significant and angry, were fixed on him in anything but a friendly manner. "Do you know what I'm thinking, sir?" he said, coolly flicking the pony's back with the whip. "No, Kerry," replied Hilliston, with equal coolness. "Is it of anything important?" "It might be to you, sir," replied Kerry dryly. "I was just thinking whether it wouldn't be a good thing to send horse and trap and you and I into the water. Then there would be an end to your black heart and your black schemes." "That is very possible, Kerry," said Hilliston, who knew his man, "but before going to extremities you had better make certain that you are acting for the best. Without me your master is ruined." "We'll talk it over, sir," answered Kerry, and with a smart flick of his whip sent the pony across the bridge. When they were over and were trotting between hedgerows he resumed the conversation. "Why have ye come here again, sir?" he asked abruptly. "We were quit of you five years ago, and now you come to harry the master once more." "I come for his own good, Kerry." "Ah, now don't be after calling me Kerry. There's no one here, and it is Denis Bantry I am to you, Mr. Francis Hilliston."