“Then he says, very haughty, as if I was the dirt under his feet—­ I suppose, Sir Anthony Fenimore and Major Meredyth, you think that me and my class are by divine prescription the dirt beneath your feet, but you’re damn well mistaken—­then he says:  ’What the devil do you mean?’ and catches hold of the front wheel of the bicycle and swings it and me out of his way so that I had a nasty fall, with the machine on top of me, and he marches off.  I picked myself up furious with anger.  I am an elderly man and not accustomed to that sort of treatment.  I yelled out:  ’What have you been doing with the Squire’s daughter on the towing-path?’ It pulled him up short.  He made a step or two towards me, and again he asked me what I meant.  And this time I told him.  He called me a liar, swore he had never been on any tow-path or had seen any squire’s daughter, and threatened to murder me.  As soon as I could mount my bicycle I left him and made for home.  The next afternoon, if you remember, the unfortunate young lady’s body was found at the bottom of three fathoms of water by the lock gates.”

He had spoken so clearly, so unfalteringly, that Sir Anthony had been surprised into listening without interruption.  The bull-dog expression on his face never changed.  When Gedge had come to the end, he said: 

“Will you again tell me your object in coming to me with this disgusting story?”

Gedge lifted his bushy eyebrows.  “Don’t you believe it even now?”

“Not a word of it,” replied Sir Anthony.

“I ought to remind you of another point.” said Gedge.  “Was Major Boyce ever seen in Wellingsford after that night?  No.  He went off by the first train the next morning.  Went abroad and stayed there till the outbreak of war.”

“I happen to know he had made arrangements to start for Norway that morning,” said Sir Anthony.  “He had called here a day or two before to say good-bye.”

“Did he write you any letter of condolence?” Gedge asked sneeringly.

I saw a sudden spasm pass over Sir Anthony’s features.  But he said in the same tone as before: 

“I am not going to answer insolent questions.”

Gedge turned to me with the air of a man giving up argument with a child.

“What do you think of it, Major Meredyth?”

What could I say?  I had kept a grim iron face all through the proceedings.  I could only reply: 

“I agree entirely with Sir Anthony.”

Gedge rose and thrust his hand into his jacket pocket.  “You gentlemen are hard to convince.  If you want proof positive, just read that.”  And he held a letter out to Sir Anthony.

Sir Anthony glared at him and abruptly plucked the letter out of his hand; for the fraction of a second he stood irresolute; then he threw it behind him into the blazing fire.

“Do you think I’m going to soil my mind with your dirty forgeries?”

Gedge laughed.  “You think you’ve queered my pitch, I suppose.  You haven’t.  I’ve heaps more incriminating letters.  That was only a sample.”