“Well, I don’t know,” he answered. “I have walked twenty or thirty miles to-day. That doesn’t sound particularly lazy, does it?” “On sport or business?” I inquired. He laughed, and looked down at himself. His clothes were splashed with mud, and a bramble had torn his coat in a fresh place. “I maintain that it is immaterial,” he declared. “I’ve been out all day, and I haven’t sat down for more than an hour. Therefore I deny the laziness _in toto_.” “At any rate,” I continued, “there is another charge against you, which you certainly can’t deny.” “And that is?” “Untidiness! We used to have a woman call upon us at Belchester to buy our old clothes. If ever she comes here I shall certainly send her up to Deville Court.” He laughed gruffly. “I wish you would; I’d sell her the whole lot. Anything else?” “The other things,” I said, “were too bad to repeat. I have only been enumerating your minor faults.” He made me an ironical bow. “I am exceedingly obliged to my godmother,” he said. “Some day I shall do myself the pleasure of paying her a visit and suggesting that she should mind her own business.” “Your business is her business to the extent of her godmotherhood,” I reminded him, suavely. “Hang her godmotherhood!” he uttered under his breath. I think it was “hang” he said--I was not sure about the expletive. “I shall go away,” I said. “You are getting profane. You are still as rude as when I bound your dog’s leg for you, I see.” He was suddenly grave. “That seems a long time ago,” he remarked. “A week or two only,” I reminded him. “It seems longer, because of all that has happened. That reminds me, Mr. Deville. I wanted to speak to you--about--that Sunday--the murder!” He shook his head, and whistled to his dogs. “Can’t talk about it,” he declared. “You ought not to want to.” “And why not?” I demanded. “You are not well enough. I don’t wonder that you’ve been ill. You must have been within a few yards of the fellow all the time. Certainly you must not talk about it. Good evening.” “But there is something I want to ask you,” I continued. He shook his head. He was already moving away. I called him back. “Mr. Deville! One moment, please.” He paused and looked over his shoulder. “Well!” “I want to ask you just one thing about that man.” I was talking to empty space. Bruce Deville was already almost out of sight, striding along across the short turf, with his broad back turned to me. Soon he had vanished amongst the shadows. There was nothing for me to do but to return to the house. CHAPTER XIV ADELAIDE FORTRESS’S GUEST My father did not appear at breakfast time the next morning, and Alice, who took him up some tea, came down in some concern. “Father is not getting up until this afternoon, at any rate,” she announced. “He is very unwell. I wish he would let us send for a doctor. He has looked so dreadfully ill since he came back from London.”