She gave him a fleeting glance.  “You have come from Trelevan?”

“Yes.  I got there this afternoon.  We left Wallacetown early this morning.”

“Rode all the way?” questioned Jack.

“Yes, every inch.  I wanted to see the Fortescue Gold Mine.”

“Ah!  There’s a rough crowd there,” said Jack.  “They say all the uncaught criminals find their way to the Fortescue Gold Mine.”

“Yes,” said Hill.

“Is it true?” asked Adela, curiously.

“I am not in a position to say, madam.”  Hill’s voice sounded sardonic.

“That means he doesn’t know,” explained Jack.  “Look here, man!  If you’ve ridden all the way from Wallacetown to-day you can’t go back to Trelevan to-night.  Your animal must be absolutely used up—­if you are not.”

“Oh, I think not.  We are both tougher than that.”  Hill turned towards him.  “Don’t mix it too strong, Jack!  I hardly ever touch it except under your roof.”

“I am indeed honoured,” laughed Jack.  “But if you’re going to spend the night you’ll be able to sleep it off before you face your orderly in the morning.”

“Do stay!” said Adela, hastening to follow up her husband’s suggestion.  “We should all like it.  I hope you will.”

Hill bowed towards her with stiff ceremony.  “You are very kind, madam.  But I don’t like to give trouble, and I am expected back.”

“By whom?” questioned Jack.  “No one that counts, I’ll swear.  Your orderly won’t break his heart if you take a night out.  He’ll probably do the same himself.  And no one else will know.  We’ll let you leave as early as you like in the morning, but not before.  Come, that’s settled, isn’t it?  Go and get Rupert a shake-down, little ’un, and give him a decent feed with plenty of corn in it!  No, let her, man; let her!  She likes doing it, eh, Dot girl?”

“Yes, I like it,” Dot said, and hurriedly disappeared before Hill could intervene.

Jack turned to his wife.  “Now, missis!  Go and make ready upstairs!  It’s only a little room, Fletcher, but it’s snug.  That’s the way,” as his wife followed Dot’s example.  “Now—­quick, man!  I want a word with you.”

“Obviously,” said the magistrate, dryly.  “You needn’t say it, thanks all the same.  I’ll leave that drink till—­afterwards.”

He straightened his tall figure with an instinctive bracing of the shoulders, and turned to the door.

Jack watched him go with a smile that was not untinged with anxiety, and lifted his glass as the door closed.

“You’ve got the cards, old feller,” he said.  “May you play ’em well!”

Fletcher Hill stepped forth into the moonlit night and stood still.  It had been a swift maneuvre on Jack’s part, and it might have disconcerted a younger man and driven him into ill-considered action.  But it was not this man’s nature to act upon impulse.  His caution was well known.  It had been his safeguard in many a difficulty.  It stood him in good stead now.