As the days and weeks went on, and Lord and Lady Hartledon continued at Calne, there was one circumstance that began to impress itself on the mind of the former in a careless sort of way—­that he was constantly meeting Pike.  Go out when he would, he was sure to see Pike in some out-of-the-way spot; at a sudden turning, or peering forth from under a group of trees, or watching him from a roadside bank.  One special day impressed itself on Lord Hartledon’s memory.  He was walking slowly along the road with Dr. Ashton, and found Pike keeping pace with them softly on the other side the hedge, listening no doubt to what he could hear.  On one of these occasions Val stopped and confronted him.

“What is it you want, Mr. Pike?”

Perhaps Mr. Pike was about the last man in the world to be, as the saying runs, “taken aback,” and he stood his ground, and boldly answered “Nothing.”

“It seems as though you did,” said Val.  “Go where I will, you are sure to spring up before me, or to be peeping from some ambush as I walk along.  It will not do:  do you understand?”

“I was just thinking the same thing yesterday—­that your lordship was always meeting me,” said Pike.  “No offence on either side, I dare say.”

Val walked on, throwing the man a significant look of warning, but vouchsafing no other reply.  After that Pike was a little more cautious, and kept aloof for a time; but Val knew that he was still watched on occasion.

One fine October day, when the grain had been gathered in and the fields were bare with stubble, Hartledon, alone in one of the front rooms, heard a contest going on outside.  Throwing up the window, he saw his young son attempting to mount the groom’s pony:  the latter objecting.  At the door stood a low basket carriage, harnessed with the fellow pony.  They belonged to Lady Hartledon; sometimes she drove only one; and the groom, a young lad of fourteen, light and slim, rode the other:  sometimes both ponies were in the carriage; and on those occasions the boy sat by her side, and drove.

“What’s the matter, Edward?” called out Lord Hartledon to his son.

“Young lordship wants to ride the pony, my lord,” said the groom.  “My lady ordered me to ride it.”

At this juncture Lady Hartledon appeared on the scene, ready for her drive.  She had intended to take her little son with her—­as she generally did—­but the child boisterously demanded that he should ride the pony for once, and she weakly yielded.  Lord Hartledon’s private opinion, looking on, was that she was literally incapable of denying him any earthly thing he chose to demand.  He went out.

“He had better go with you in the carriage, Maude.”

“Not at all.  He sits very well now, and the pony’s perfectly quiet.”

“But he is too young to ride by the side of any vehicle.  It is not safe.  Let him sit with you as usual.”

“Nonsense!  Edward, you shall ride the pony.  Help him up, Ralph.”