“Mr. Gifford has not had much opportunity yet of seeing how far it has altered, with this tragic affair to upset everything,” Morriston put in.

“No, it has been a most unlucky time for him to revisit Wynford,” Miss Morriston added in her cold tone.  “I hope Mr. Gifford is not going to hurry away from the neighbourhood in consequence.”

“Not if I can prevent it,” Kelson replied, with a laugh.

“I hope,” Morriston said hospitably, “that whether his stay be short or long Mr. Gifford will consider himself quite at home here.  And I need not say, my dear Kelson, that invitation includes you.”

Both men thanked him.  “We have already done a little trespassing in your park,” Kelson observed with a laugh.

“Please don’t call it trespassing again,” Miss Morriston commanded.  “Let me give you another cup of tea, Muriel.”

“The old house looks most picturesque by moon-light,” observed Lord Painswick.  “I was quite fascinated by it the other night.”

“There is a full moon now,” Gifford said.  “We will stroll round and admire when we leave.”

“Don’t stroll over the edge of the haha as I very nearly did one night,” Morriston said laughingly.  “When it lies in the shadow of the house it is a regular trap.”

“Moonlight has its dangers as well as its beauties,” Painswick murmured sententiously.

“The friendly cloak of night is apt to trip one up,” Gifford added.

As he spoke the words there came a startling little cry from Miss Tredworth accompanied by the crash and clatter of falling crockery.  Gifford’s remark had been made with his eyes fixed on his friend’s fiancee, to whom at that moment Miss Morriston was handing the refilled cup of tea.  A hand of each girl was upon the saucer as the words were uttered; by whose fault it was let fall it was impossible to say.  But the slight cry of dismay had come from Miss Tredworth.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” she exclaimed, colouring with vexation.  “How stupid and clumsy of me.  Your lovely china.”

“It was my fault,” Edith Morriston protested, her clear-cut face showing no trace of annoyance.  “I thought you had hold of the cup, and I let it go too soon.  Ring the bell, will you, Dick.”

“Please don’t distress yourself, Miss Tredworth,” Mr. Morriston entreated her as he crossed to the bell.  “I’m sure it was not your fault.”

“Was that a quotation, Mr. Gifford?” Miss Morriston asked, clearly with the object of dismissing the unfortunate episode.

“My remark about the cloak of night?” he replied.  “Perhaps.  I seem to have heard something like it somewhere.”

And as he spoke he glanced curiously at Miss Tredworth.

CHAPTER X

AN ALARMING DISCOVERY

Next evening the two friends at the Golden Lion were engaged to dine with the Morristons.  They had been out with the hounds all day, and, beyond the natural gossip of the country-side, had heard nothing fresh concerning the tragedy.  Gervase Henshaw had gone up to town for his brother’s funeral, and Host Dipper had no fresh development to report.  In answer to a question from Gifford, he said he expected Mr. Henshaw back on the morrow, or at latest the day after.