“Fear nothing, Borlase,” he said.  “You’re saved alive, and you can take a drink out of my whisky bottle in the cupboard if you’ve got a mind to it.  ’Tis this way, my bold hero.  My brother-in-law, Mr. Green here, have a sense of fun as be hidden from the common likes of you and me.  He’s a great naturalist, and he haunts the woods for beetles and toadstools and the like; and I may tell you on his account that he’s a person of independent means, and would no more kill a pheasant, nor yet a guinea-pig, that belonged to another man, than he’d fly over the moon.  But when he heard the Trusham keepers thought he was a poacher, such was his love of a lark that he let ’em go on thinking so, and he’s built up a doubtful character much to my sorrow, though there ain’t no foundation in fact for it.  But he laughs to see the scowling faces, though after to-night he’ll mend his ways in that respect I shouldn’t wonder.”

Samuel stared and looked at the gun in his hand and the pheasant in Chawner’s.  It comed over him now that Inspector was going back on him and meant to take Green’s side.

“What about these?” he said.

“I’ll come to them,” continued Chowne.  “Now you fell in love with my niece and, as becomes a father, Mr. Green have got to size you up.  And he took a tolerable stern way so to do; but there again his sense of fun mastered him.  He told Sis you was still untried and a doubtful problem, though nought against you, and she said, being terrible trustful of you, that nought would come between you and your duty.  And so this here man thought out a plan; and if the devil could have hit on a craftier, or yet a harsher, I’d be surprised.  But mark this, Samuel:  he laid it afore Cicely afore he done it.  And such was her amazing woman’s faith, she agreed to it, because her love for you rose above all doubt.  ’Twas a plant, my boy; and if you’d let Mr. Green go his way, you’d have lost your future wife; but because you’ve done your duty, you’ve got her; and may she always have the rare belief in you she has to-night.”

Still Sam found it hard to believe he was waking.  But he done a sensible thing and went to Inspector’s private tap and poured himself four fingers.

“Here’s luck,” he said; and Chawner Green always told afterwards that it was the first and last joke his son-in-law ever made.

’Twas he who spoke next.

“Now look at this pheasant,” ordered Chawner; and the young man handled the bird and found it stiff and cold.

“How long should you judge it had been dead?” inquired Mr. Green.  “Anyway, I’ll tell you.  Sis bought that creature at her sister’s husband’s fish and poultry shop two days agone.  You’ll certainly make a policeman to talk about, Sam; but I’m fearing you’ll never rise to be a detective.”

They went out together five minutes later, Sam to his beat and Green to his home.  And the elder was in a very human frame of mind, but Samuel hadn’t quite took it all in yet.