“Ah, you must have been mistaken,” said Mr. Taynton.  “I know the spot you mean on the road, where you can see the lawn, but it’s half a mile off.  It must have been some friend of hers perhaps staying in the house.”

Morris shook his head.

“I was not mistaken,” he said.  “For yesterday evening I got a note from her, saying she had posted it secretly, but that she must see me, though she was forbidden to do so, or to hold any communication with me.”

“Forbidden?” ejaculated Mr. Taynton.

“Yes, forbidden.  Well, this morning I went to the place she named, outside on the downs beyond the park gate and saw her.  Somebody has been telling vile lies about me to her father.  I think I know who it is.”

Mr. Taynton held up his hand.

“Stop,” he said, “let us have your conjecture afterward.  Tell me first not what you guess, but what happened.  Arrange it all in your mind, tell it me as connectedly as you can.”

Morris paused a moment.

“Well, I met Madge as I told you, and this was her story.  Three days ago she and her father and mother were at lunch, and they had been talking in the most friendly way about me, and it was arranged to ask me to spend all yesterday with them.  Madge, as you know, the next night was dining with us, and it was agreed that she should ask me verbally.  After lunch she and her father went out riding, and when they returned they found that your partner Mills, had come to call.  He stayed for tea, and after tea had a talk alone with Sir Richard, while she and her mother sat out on the lawn.  Soon after he had gone, Sir Richard sent for Lady Templeton, and it was nearly dressing-time when she left him again.  She noticed at dinner that both her father and mother seemed very grave, and when Madge went up to bed, her mother said that perhaps they had better not ask me over, as there was some thought of their being away all day.  Also if I suggested coming over, when Madge dined with us, she was to give that excuse.  That was all she was told for the time being.”

Morris paused again.

“You are telling this very clearly and well, my dear boy,” said the lawyer, very gravely and kindly.

“It is so simple,” said he with a biting emphasis.  “Then next morning after breakfast her father sent for her.  He told her that they had learned certain things about me which made them think it better not to see any more of me.  What they were, she was not told, but, I was not, it appeared, the sort of person with whom they chose to associate.  Now, before God, those things that they were told, whatever they were, were lies.  I lead a straight and sober life.”

Mr. Taynton was attending very closely.

“Thank God, Madge did not believe a word of it,” said Morris, his face suddenly flushing, “and like a brick, and a true friend she wrote at once to me, as I said, in order to tell me all this.  We talked over, too, who it could have been who had said these vile things to her father.  There was only one person who could.  She had ridden with her father till tea-time.  Then came your partner.  Sir Richard saw nobody else; nobody else called that afternoon; no post came in.”