“He slipt out of my arms while I was petting him,” she answered, “and disappeared under the hedges.”

They found him at a place where the avenue widened so as to let carriages pass each other.  The little creature seemed quite changed.  He had been ebulliently active; now he was dull and spiritless—­seemed to be dazed.  He allowed himself to be lifted by either of the pair; but when he was alone with Lady Arabella he kept looking round him in a strange way, as though trying to escape.  When they had come out on the roadway Adam held the mongoose tight to him, and, lifting his hat to his companion, moved quickly towards Lesser Hill; he and Lady Arabella lost sight of each other in the thickening gloom.

When Adam got home, he put the mongoose in his box, and locked the door of the room.  The other mongoose—­the one from Nepaul—­was safely locked in his own box, but he lay quiet and did not stir.  When he got to his study Sir Nathaniel came in, shutting the door behind him.

“I have come,” he said, “while we have an opportunity of being alone, to tell you something of the Caswall family which I think will interest you.  There is, or used to be, a belief in this part of the world that the Caswall family had some strange power of making the wills of other persons subservient to their own.  There are many allusions to the subject in memoirs and other unimportant works, but I only know of one where the subject is spoken of definitely.  It is Mercia and its Worthies, written by Ezra Toms more than a hundred years ago.  The author goes into the question of the close association of the then Edgar Caswall with Mesmer in Paris.  He speaks of Caswall being a pupil and the fellow worker of Mesmer, and states that though, when the latter left France, he took away with him a vast quantity of philosophical and electric instruments, he was never known to use them again.  He once made it known to a friend that he had given them to his old pupil.  The term he used was odd, for it was ‘bequeathed,’ but no such bequest of Mesmer was ever made known.  At any rate the instruments were missing, and never turned up.”

A servant came into the room to tell Adam that there was some strange noise coming from the locked room into which he had gone when he came in.  He hurried off to the place at once, Sir Nathaniel going with him.  Having locked the door behind them, Adam opened the packing-case where the boxes of the two mongooses were locked up.  There was no sound from one of them, but from the other a queer restless struggling.  Having opened both boxes, he found that the noise was from the Nepaul animal, which, however, became quiet at once.  In the other box the new mongoose lay dead, with every appearance of having been strangled!

CHAPTER X—­THE KITE

On the following day, a little after four o’clock, Adam set out for Mercy.