"How do you know anything of the sort took place?--any interview?" "It was watched--that is, accidentally seen. A person was passing at the time, and has mentioned it to-day." "Who was the person?" Bowen did not reply to the question. The omission may have been accidental, since he was hastening to put one on his own account. "Do you deny this, Mr. Chattaway?" "No. I wish I had the opportunity of acknowledging it to Mr. Rupert Trevlyn in the manner he deserves," continued Mr. Chattaway, in what looked like a blaze of anger. "It is said that after the--the encounter, Rupert Trevlyn was left as one dead," cautiously resumed Bowen. "Psha!" was the scornful retort. "Dead! He got up and ran away." A very different account from that of Jim Sanders. Bowen was silent for a minute, endeavouring, most likely, to reconcile the two. "Have you any objection to state what took place, sir?" "I don't know that I have," was the reply, somewhat sullenly delivered. "But I can't see what business it is of yours." "People are taking up odd notions about it," said Bowen. "People be hanged! It's no concern of theirs." "But if they come to me and oblige me to make it my concern?" returned the officer, in significant tones. "If it's all fair and above-board, you had better tell me, Mr. Chattaway. If it's not, perhaps the less you say the better." It was a hint not calculated to conciliate a chafed spirit, and Mr. Chattaway resented it. "How dare you presume to throw out insinuations to me?" he cried, snatching his riding-whip off the desk, where he had laid it, and stalking towards the door. "I'll tell you nothing; and you may make the best and the worst of it. Find Rupert Trevlyn, if you must know, and get it out of him. I ask you who has been spreading the rumour that I met Rupert Trevlyn last night?" Bowen saw no reason why he should not disclose it. "Jim Sanders," he replied. "Psha!" contemptuously ejaculated Mr. Chattaway: and he mounted his horse and rode away. So that after this colloquy, Chattaway was in a degree prepared to find unpleasant rumours had reached the Hold. When he entered he could not avoid seeing the shrinking, timid looks cast on him by his children; the haughty, questioning face of Miss Diana; the horror in that of Mrs. Chattaway. He took the same sullen, defiant tone with them that he had taken with Bowen, denying the thing by implication more than by direct assertions. He asked them all whether they had gone out of their minds, that they should listen to senseless tales; and threatened the most dire revenge against Rupert when he was found.