"Quite right," rejoined Claude, seizing the opportunity. "You were--nay, you are--a friend of mine. I am the little lad you carried in your arms--to whom you told stories, and sang songs. Children forget a great deal, but I have not forgotten you, Denis." In dogged silence the old man turned his head away, intently bent on his sport, but suddenly he raised the cuff of his coat and wiped away a betraying tear. Seeing that he had touched the man's sympathy, Claude followed up his advantage. "You are not going to deny me, Denis, are you?" he said entreatingly. "I am down here on an errand which you must guess. If Hilliston----" "The curse of Cromwell on him!" said Kerry, under his breath. "If Hilliston told you to keep silent," said Claude, affecting to take no notice of the interjection, which confirmed his suspicions, "I, the son of your dead master, want you to speak. I wish to find out who killed my father. I wish to punish him, for you know his name." Kerry turned furiously on the young man, but it seemed to Claude that his anger was feigned to hide a deeper emotion. "It is a dirty informer you'd have me be," he cried, with a stamp of his foot, "to betray him whose bread I eat. I'll tell you nothing, for it's that much I know." "Denis----" "I'm not Denis! It's Kerry I am. I know nothing of Horriston, or of you, sir. Go away with ye, young gentleman, and don't be after disgracing an old servant to play the spy and cheat." Then, still breathing fury, he rushed away, but paused some distance off to raise his hands to the sky with an appealing gesture. The impulsive Irish nature had broken through diplomatic reserve, and, fearful of saying too much, Kerry saved himself by flight. Claude guessed this and forebore to follow him. "I have broken the ice at all events," he said to himself, when returning to the Manor to tell Tait. "The next time I may be fortunate enough to force the truth out of him. He knows it, I am certain. He hates Hilliston and loves me. I can easily guess with whom he sympathizes, in spite of his master. He is Denis, sure enough, but who is Paynton?" It was impossible to say. CHAPTER XXX. MRS. BEZEL AGAIN. ON returning home Claude found that Tait, contrary to his expressed intention, had gone out. Dormer, who was packing a portmanteau for the Horriston journey, could not inform Larcher when his master would be back, but ventured an opinion that he would certainly return to luncheon. Meanwhile, he handed to Claude some letters which had just arrived, and with these the young man managed to pass a fairly uncomfortable hour. Uncomfortable, because one of the letters was from Mrs. Bezel, and proved of so puzzling a character that Larcher was in a fever of impatience to discuss it with Tait. The little man returned to luncheon, as was surmised by Dormer, and was met in the hall by Claude with the open letter of Mrs. Bezel in his hand.