The idea seemed to haunt him—­it seemed to have a fatal attraction for him.  He resolved to go to London at once and see if anything could be done in the matter.  How he prayed and longed and hoped!  He passed through well-nigh every stage of feeling—­from the bright rapture of hope to the lowest depths of despair.  He went first to Scotland Yard, and had a long interview with the detective who had given evidence against Henry Dornham.  The detective’s idea was that he was emphatically “a bad lot.”

He smiled benignly when Lord Arleigh suggested that possibly the man was innocent, remarking that it was very kind of the gentleman to think so; for his own part he did not see a shadow of a chance of it.

“He was caught, you see, with her grace’s jewels in his pocket, and gold and silver plate ready packed by his side—­that did not look much like innocence.”

“No, certainly not,” Lord Arleigh admitted; “but then there have been cases in which circumstances looked even worse against an innocent man.”

“Yes”—­the detective admitted it, seeing that for some reason or other his lordship had a great desire to make the man out innocent.

“He will have a task,” the detective told himself, grimly.

To the inquiry as to whether the man had been sent out of England the answer was “No; he is at Chatham.”

To Chatham Lord Arleigh resolved to go.  For one in his position there would not be much difficulty in obtaining an interview with the convict.  And before long[7] Lord Arleigh, one of the proudest men in England, and Henry Dornham, poacher and thief, stood face to face.

Lord Arleigh’s first feeling was one of great surprise—­Henry Dornham was so different from what he had expected to find him; he had not thought that he would be fair like Madaline, but he was unprepared for the dark, swarthy, gypsy-like type of the man before him.

The two looked steadily at each other; the poacher did not seem in the least to stand in awe of his visitor.  Lord Arleigh tried to read the secret of the man’s guilt or innocence in his face.  Henry Dornham returned the gaze fearlessly.

“What do you want with me?” he asked.  “You are what we call a swell.  I know by the look of you.  What do you want with me?”

The voice, like the face, was peculiar, not unpleasant—­deep, rich, with a clear tone, yet not in the least like Madaline’s voice.

“I want,” said Lord Arleigh, steadily, “to be your friend, if you will let me.”

“My friend!” a cynical smile curled the handsome lips.  “Well, that is indeed a novelty.  I should like to ask, if it would not seem rude, what kind of a friend can a gentleman like you be to me?”

“You will soon find out,” said Lord Arleigh.

“I have never known a friendship between a rich man and a ne’er-do-well like myself which did not end in harm for the poorer man.  You seek us only when you want us—­and then it is for no good.”