"No," replied his friend, after a few moments' deliberation. "Our success in this depends on keeping Hilliston in the dark concerning our movements. If we tell him too much he may thwart us, as he has done already in this Paynton business. Say nothing about Louisa Sinclair, or about my visit to Horriston. Tell him I have gone to town, and let him figure out the reason for himself. By the way, when do you see him?" "On Friday evening. Both he and his wife are coming to dine, and stop all night at the vicarage. You may be sure Hilliston will put me through a thorough cross-examination regarding your absence." "Refer him to Mr. Linton," said Tait coolly. "I am writing to that gentleman, telling him I am unexpectedly called to town on particular business. What that business is Hilliston will be anxious to know. I don't think he'll enjoy his evening at all. A guilty conscience mars all pleasure." "When do you leave?" "By the 4.20 train this afternoon. I'll write you about my discoveries as soon as I find out anything worth scribbling about." "You'll find nothing," said Claude dolefully; "after five-and-twenty years." "I'll find out who Louisa Sinclair is, and then astonish Hilliston with the extent of my information. Regarding Paynton, I am not so certain. That discovery rests between you and Denis Bantry." "I'll do my best, but I am doubtful," replied Claude, and so the conversation terminated for the time being. It left a lasting impression on the two who took part in it. Tait duly took his departure with Dormer, leaving Claude in possession of the house. As he leaned out of the window of the smoking carriage, he said a last word to his friend: "Don't tell Hilliston about my going to Horriston," he said significantly; "but if you get a chance inform his wife of the fact." "Why?" "I'll tell you that when I come back," said Tait, as the train moved slowly off. "Give her the information, and observe the effect; it will astonish you." But Tait counted without his host; he was ignorant of Mrs. Hilliston's powers of self-control. CHAPTER XXXI. AN EVENING AT THE VICARAGE. THE Vicar of Thorston was a severe man, a trifle narrow in his views, and imperious of temper; but he was also fond of good cheer and hospitality--virtues which cover a multitude of sins. Those who sat at his table were sure of a capital dinner and an excellent glass of wine; for his cook and cellar were both undeniable. Report said that Mr. Linton was afraid of his cook, for that good lady had a hot temper, and feared no man. Many were the battles between her and the vicar, but being a perfect mistress of the culinary art, she invariably came off victor. She had her faults, but she was a jewel of a cook, and was valued accordingly.