“Pike, when you made acquaintance with that man Gorton—­you remember him?” broke off Lord Hartledon.

“Yes, I do,” said Pike emphatically.

“Did he make you acquainted with any of his private affairs?—­his past history?”

“Not a word,” answered Pike, looking still after the cart and the boy.

“Were those fine whiskers of his false? that red hair?”

Pike turned his head quickly.  The question had aroused him.

“False hair and whiskers!  I never knew it was the fashion to wear them.”

“It may be convenient sometimes, even if not the fashion,” observed Lord Hartledon, his tone full of cynical meaning; and Mr. Pike surreptitiously peered at him with his small light eyes.

“If Gorton’s hair was false, I never noticed it, that’s all; I never saw him without a hat, that I remember, except in that inquest-room.”

“Had he been to Australia?”

Pike paused to take another surreptitious gaze.

“Can’t say, my lord.  Never heard.”

“Was his name Gorton, or Gordon?  Come, Pike,” continued Lord Hartledon, good-humouredly, “there’s a sort of mutual alliance between you and me; you did me a service once unasked, and I allow you to live free and undisturbed on my ground.  I think you do know something of this man; it is a fancy I have taken up.”

“I never knew his name was anything but Gorton,” said Pike carelessly; “never heard it nor thought it.”

“Did you happen to hear him ever speak of that mutiny on board the Australian ship Morning Star?  You have heard of it, I daresay:  a George Gordon was the ringleader.”

If ever the cool impudence was suddenly taken out of a man, this question seemed to take it out of Pike.  He did not reply for some time; and when he did, it was in low and humble tones.

“My lord, I hope you’ll pardon my rough thoughts and ways, which haven’t been used to such as you—­and the sight of that boy put me up, for reasons of my own.  As to Gorton—­I never did hear him speak of the thing you mention.  His name’s Gorton, and nothing else, as far as I know; and his hair’s his own, for all I ever saw.”

“He did not give you his confidence, then?”

“No, never.  Not about himself nor anything else, past or present.”

“And did not let a word slip?  As to—­for instance, as to his having been a passenger on board the Morning Star at the time of the mutiny?”

Pike had moved away a step, and stood with his arms on the hurdles, his head bent on them, his face turned from Lord Hartledon.

“Gorton said nothing to me.  As to that mutiny—­I think I read something about it in the newspapers, but I forget what.  I was just getting up from some weeks of rheumatic fever at the time; I’d caught it working in the fields; and news don’t leave much impression in illness.  Gorton never spoke of it to me.  I never heard him say who or what he was; and I couldn’t speak more truly if your lordship offered to give me the shed as a bribe.”