“Let me see the man,” said Mr. Wedmore.

And, pushing past his son, he entered the barn.

The doctor made way for him.

“He is quite dead.  He must have been killed instantly,” said Doctor Haselden, as his friend came up.

Mr. Wedmore took the lantern from the man who held it, and looked at the dead face.  As he did so, his first expression of curiosity gave place to one of perplexity, followed by a stare of intense amazement and horror.

“What is it?  Do you know him?” asked Doctor Haselden, while Max, who had followed his father in, watched with intense interest and surprise.

Mr. Wedmore did not seem to hear.  He continued to look at the dead face for some moments with an appearance of utter absorption, and then, suddenly staggering back, he made for the open air without a word of explanation.

Max stared at the doctor, and then followed his father out.  But Mr. Wedmore was already half way to the house, where he shut himself into the study, and locking the door, refused to be disturbed.

Max was more bewildered than ever by this new turn of affairs.  With a dogged determination not to be kept any longer out of a secret of which everybody but himself seemed to know something, he went straight up to the sick-room in search of Carrie.  His knock, however, was answered by the professional nurse, who opened the door and asked him what he wanted.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Max.  “At least—­I wanted to know how Mr. Horne is now.”

“He won’t be so well to-night, I expect,” answered the nurse, tartly.  “There’s been a great noise and disturbance outside, and he’s heard something of it, and it’s made him restless and curious.  He is asking questions about it all the time, and he won’t be satisfied.  He keeps asking for the other nurse, who is out taking her walk, as I tell him.”

At this point Dudley’s voice was heard from the bed.  “Who’s that at the door?  Who is it?”

Max, after a moment’s hesitation, during which the nurse assumed an air of washing her hands of the whole matter, answered: 

“Me, old chap—­Max.  How are you?”

Dudley sprang up in bed.  The nurse folded her arms and frowned.

“Come in, oh, come in, just one moment!  I’ll be quiet, nurse, quite quiet.  But I must see him—­I must see somebody.”

Max threw an imploring glance at the nurse, who refused to look at him.  Then he went in.

“Only a minute—­I won’t stay a minute.”

The nurse shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s against the doctor’s orders.  I wash my hands of the consequences,” said she.

And, with her head held very high, she left the room.

Max stood irresolute.  By the look of excitement on Dudley’s face, he judged that anything must be better for him than the eager suspense from which he was evidently suffering.  This news of the death of the odious inhabitant of the house by the wharf must surely bring relief to him.  As soon as they were alone together, Dudley burst out eagerly: