As he sought a plausible tale, his thoughts detached themselves, and it struck him that the gentleman sitting opposite was his next-door neighbour.  He imagined his visit; the invitation to dine; the inevitable daughters in the drawing-room.  How would he be received by the county folks?

“That depends,” he thought, “entirely on the number of unmarried girls there are in the neighbourhood.  The morals and manners of an English county are determined by its female population.  If the number of females is large, manners are familiar, and morals are lax; if the number is small, manners are reserved, and morals severe.”

He was in a carriage with two unmistakably county squires, and their conversation—­certain references to a meet of the hounds and a local bazaar—­left no doubt that they were his neighbours.  Indeed, Lady Seeley was once alluded to, and Mike was agitated with violent desires to introduce himself as the owner of Belthorpe Park.  Several times he opened his lips, but their talk suddenly turned into matters so foreign that he abandoned the notion of revealing his identity, and five minutes after he congratulated himself he had not done so.

The next station was Wantage Street; and as he looked to see that the guard had put out his portmanteau, a smart footman approached, and touching his cockaded hat said, “Mr. Fletcher.”  Mike thrilled with pride.  His servant—­his first servant.

“I’ve brought the dog-cart, sir; I thought it would be the quickest; it will take us a good hour, the roads are very heavy, sir.”

Mike noticed the coronet worked in red upon the yellow horse-cloth, for the lamps cast a bright glow over the mare’s quarters; and wishing to exhibit himself in all his new fortune before his fellow-passengers, who were getting into a humbler conveyance, he took the reins from the groom; and when he turned into the wrong street, he cursed under his breath, fancying all had noticed his misadventure.  When they were clear of the town, touching the mare with the whip he said—­

“Not a bad animal, this.”

“Beautiful trotter, sir.  Her ladyship bought her only last spring; gave seventy guineas for her.”

After a slight pause, Mike said, “Very sad, her ladyship’s death, and quite unexpected, I suppose.  She wasn’t ill above a couple of days.”

“Not what you might call ill, sir; but her ladyship had been ailing for a long time past.  The doctors ordered her abroad last winter, sir, but I don’t think it did her much good.  She came back looking very poorly.”

“Now tell me which is the way? do I turn to the right or left?”

“To the right, sir.”

“How far are we from Belthorpe Park now?”

“About three miles, sir.”

“You were saying that her ladyship looked very poorly for some time before she died.  Tell me how she looked.  What do you think was the matter?”

“Well, sir, her ladyship seemed very much depressed.  I heard Miss Fairfield, her ladyship’s maid, say that she used to find her ladyship constantly in tears; her nerves seemed to have given way.”