“At any rate, doubt or no doubt, there is no cause for him to go about at night with a gun.  What does he do it for?”

“I have asked him, sir, and he does not answer.  He seems to me to be on the watch.”

“On the watch for what?” rejoined Lionel.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said old Matthew.  “If you’d say a word to him, sir, it might stop it.  He got a foolish notion into his mind that poor Rachel’s spirit might come again, and he’d used to be about the pond pretty near every moonlight night.  That fancy passed off, and he has gone to his bed at night as the rest of us have, up to the last week or so, when he has taken to go out again, and to carry a gun.”

“It was a foolish notion,” remarked Lionel.  “The dead do not come again, Matthew.”

Matthew made no reply.

“I must try and come across Robin,” said Lionel, rising.  “I wish you would tell him to come up to me, Matthew.”

“Sir, if you desire that he shall wait upon you at Verner’s Pride, he will be sure to do so,” said the old man, leaning on his stick as he stood.  “He has not got to the length of disobeying an order of yours.  I’ll tell him.”

It happened that Lionel did “come across” Robin Frost.  Not to any effect, however, for he could not get to speak to him.  Lionel was striking across some fields towards Deerham Court, when he came in view of Roy and Robin Frost leaning over a gate, their heads together in close confab.  It looked very much as though they were talking secrets.  They looked up and saw him; but when he reached the place, both were gone.  Roy was in sight, but the other had entirely disappeared.  Lionel lifted his voice.

“Roy, I want you.”

Roy could not fain deafness, although there was every appearance that he would like to do it.  He turned and approached, putting his hand to his hat in a half surly manner.

“Where’s Robin Frost?”

“Robin Frost, sir?  He was here a minute or two agone.  I met him accidental, and I stopped him to ask what he was about, that he hadn’t been at work this three days.  He went on his way then, down the gap.  Did you want him, sir?”

Lionel Verner’s perceptive faculties were tolerably developed.  That Roy was endeavouring to blind him, he had no doubt.  They had not met “accidental,” and the topic of conversation had not been Robin’s work—­of that he felt sure.  Roy and Robin Frost might meet and talk together all day long.  It was nothing to him.  Why they should strive to deceive him was the only curious part about it.  Both had striven to avoid meeting him; and Roy was talking to him now unwillingly.  In a general way, Robin Frost was fond of meeting and receiving a word from Mr. Verner.

“I shall see him another time,” carelessly remarked Lionel.  “Not so fast, Roy”—­for the man was turning away—­“I have not done with you.  Will you be good enough to inform me what you were doing in front of my house last night?”