“And no one,” replied the priest, “was better qualified to do it.  But what bad work do you suspect between Corbet and the baronet?”

“Why, I have my suspicions,” replied the man.  “It’s not a month since I heard that the son of that very baronet’s brother, who was heir to the estate and titles, disappeared, and has never been heard of since.  Now, all the water in the sea wouldn’t wash the pair of them clear of what I suspect, which is—­that both had a hand in removing that boy.  The baronet was a young man at the time, but he has a face that no one could ever forget.  As for Corbet, I remember him well, as why shouldn’t I? he came there often.  I’ll take my oath it would be a charity to bring the affair to light.”

“Do you think the boy is there still?” asked the priest, suppressing all appearance of the interest which he felt.

“No,” replied the other, “he escaped about two or three years ago; but, poor lad, when it was discovered that he led too easy a life, and had got educated, his treatment was changed; a straight waistcoat was put on him, and he was placed in solitary confinement.  At first he was no more mad than I am; but he did get occasionally mad afterwards.  I know he attempted suicide, and nearly cut his throat with a piece of glass one day that his hands got loose while they were changing his linen.  Old Rivet died, and the establishment was purchased by Tickleback, who, to my own knowledge, had him regularly scourged.”

“And how did he escape, do you know?” inquired the priest.

“I could tell you that, too, maybe,” replied Skipton; “but I think, sir, I have told you enough for the present.  If that young man is living, I would swear that he ought to stand in Sir Thomas Gourlay’s shoes.  And now do you think, sir,” he inquired, coming at last to the real object of his communication, “that if his right could be made clear, any one who’d help him to his own mightn’t expect to be made comfortable for life?”

“I don’t think there’s a doubt about it,” replied the priest.  “The property is large, and he could well afford to be both generous and grateful.”

“I know,” returned the man, “that he is both one and the other, if he had it in his power.”

“Well,” said the priest, seriously; “mark my words—­this may be the most fortunate day you ever saw.  In the mane time, keep a close mouth.  The friends of that identical boy are on the search for him this moment.  They had given him up for dead; but it is not long since they discovered that he was living.  I will see you again on this subject.”

“I am now a constable,” said the man, “attached to the office you were in to-day, and I can be heard of any time.”

“Very well,” replied the priest, “you shall hear either from me or from some person interested in the recovery of the boy that’s lost.”

CHAPTER XXVII.  Lucy calls upon Lady Gourlay, where she meets her Lover