“A nailer,” Gifford answered shortly.

“Yes,” Kelson agreed.  “He gives one the idea of a man who will make trouble if he can.  As offensive as his brother was, I should say, although in a different line.  I did not detect one sign of any consideration for the Morristons in their horribly unpleasant position.”

“No,” Gifford agreed.  “I was very sorry for Morriston.  He behaved extremely well, considering the irritatingly antagonistic line the man chose to take up.”

“Brainy man, Henshaw; unpleasantly sharp, eh?”

“Yes,” Gifford replied.  “Added to his legal training he is by way of being an expert in criminology.”

“I do hope,” Kelson remarked thoughtfully, “he is not going to make himself unpleasant down here.  The scandal will be quite enough without that.  Horribly rough luck on the Morristons as new-comers here to have an affair like this happening in their house.  I can’t think what brought the man down here.”

“No; he came with a purpose, that’s certain.”

“A woman in it, no doubt.  One can quite sympathize with the brother’s incredulity as to the suicide theory, though hardly with his manner of showing it.  The dead man was not that sort.  The idea is simply staggering.”

Gifford made no response, and for a while they walked on in silence.  Presently he asked, “How did you get on to-day—­I mean with Colonel Tredworth?”

“Oh, everything went off beautifully,” Kelson answered, his tone brightening with the change of subject.  “The old boy gave me his consent and his blessing.  I’ve scarcely been able as yet to appreciate my luck, with this affair at Wynford Place intervening.”

“No,” Gifford responded mechanically.  “It is calculated to drive everything else out of one’s head.”

“It is suggested,” said Kelson, “that we should be married quite soon.  The Tredworths are going abroad next month and don’t propose to hurry back.  So it means that if the wedding does not take place before they leave it must be postponed till probably the autumn.”

“I should think the latter would be the best plan.”

Kelson turned quickly to his companion.  “To postpone it?” he exclaimed in a rather hurt tone.  “Why on earth should we?  We have nothing to wait for, I mean money or anything of that sort.”

“No; but settlements take a long time to draw up.”

“Not if the lawyers are told to hurry up with them.”

“Then you will have to find a house, and get furniture.  And there is the trousseau,” Gifford urged.

“Oh,” Kelson returned with a show of impatience, “all these details can be got over in two or three weeks if we set ourselves to do it.  I don’t believe in waiting once the thing is settled.”

“I don’t believe in rushing matters,” Gifford rejoined.  “Least of all matrimony.”

Kelson stopped dead.  “Why, Hugh,” he said in an expostulatory tone, “what is the matter with you?  You are most confoundedly unsympathetic.  Any one would think you did not want me to marry the girl.”