Mr. Chattaway came in with his face scratched and a bruise over one eye. The servant stared in astonishment, and noticed, as his master unbuttoned a light overcoat, that the front of his shirt was torn. Mr. Chattaway was not one to be questioned by his servants, and the man went off to the kitchen and reported the news. "Good Heavens, papa! what have you done to your face?" The exclamation came from Octave, who was the first to catch sight of him as he entered the room. Mr. Chattaway responded by an angry demand why they were not in bed, what they did sitting up at that hour: and he began to light the bed-candles. "What _have_ you done to your face?" reiterated Miss Diana, coming close to take a nearer view. "Nothing," was his curt response. "What's the use of saying that?" retorted Miss Diana. "It looks as though you had been fighting. And your shirt's torn!" "I tell you there's nothing the matter with it; or with my shirt either," he said testily. "Can't you take an answer?" And, as if to put an end to questioning, he took a candle and went up to his room. The scratches were less apparent in the morning, and the bruise was only a slight one. Cris, in his indifferent manner, said the Squire must have walked into the branches of a thorny tree. By tacit consent they avoided all mention of Rupert. It is possible that even Miss Diana did not care to mention his name to Mr. Chattaway. Whilst they were at breakfast, Hatch came and put his head inside the door. "Jim Sanders is back, sir." Mr. Chattaway started up, a certain flashing light in his dull eyes that boded no good to Jim. "Where is he?" he cried. "How do you know?" "Ted, the cow-boy, has just seen him at work at Mr. Ryle's as usual, sir. I thought you might like to know it, and made bold to come in and tell ye. Ted asked him where he had runned away to yesterday, and Jim answered he had not runned away at all; only overslep' hisself." Mr. Chattaway hastened from the room, followed by Cris; and Mrs. Chattaway took the opportunity to ask Hatch if he had seen or heard anything of Mr. Rupert. But Hatch only stood stolidly in the middle of the carpet, and made no reply. "Did you not hear Madam's question, Hatch?" sharply asked Miss Diana. "Why don't you answer it?" "Because I don't like to," responded stolid Hatch. "Happen Madam mayn't like to hear the answer, Miss Diana." "Nonsense!" quickly cried Miss Trevlyn. "Have you heard of him?" "Well, yes, I have," answered Hatch. "They be talking of it now in the sheep-pen." "What are they saying?" asked Mrs. Chattaway, in eager tones. But the man remained silent, staring at his mistress. "What are they saying?--do you hear?" imperatively repeated Miss Diana. Hatch could not hold out longer. "They be saying that he's dead, ma'am." "That he is--_what_?"