“Let me understand you,” he said, and there was a stern decision in his tone and manner that surprised Pike.  “Have you any reason whatever to suspect that man of having injured, or attempted to injure my brother?”

“I’ve not,” answered Pike.  “I never saw him nearer to the mill yesterday than he was when he looked at us.  I don’t think he went nearer.  My lord, if I knew anything against the man, I’d tell it out, and be glad.  I hate the whole tribe. He wouldn’t make the mistake again,” added Pike, half-contemptuously.  “He knew which was his lordship fast enough to-day, and which wasn’t.”

“Then what did you mean by insinuating that the blow on the temple was the result of violence?”

“I didn’t say it was:  I said it might have been.  I don’t know a thing, as connected with this business, against a mortal soul.  It’s true, my lord.”

“Perhaps, then, you will leave this room,” said Lord Hartledon.

“I’m going.  And many thanks to your lordship for not having turned me from it before, and for letting me have my say.  Thanks to you, sir,” he added, as he went out of the room and passed Hedges, who was waiting in the hall.

Hedges closed the door after him, and turned to receive a reprimand from his new master.

“Before you admit such men as that into the most sacred chamber the house at present contains, you will ask my permission, Hedges.”

Hedges attempted to excuse himself.  “He was so very earnest, my lord; he declared to me he had a good motive in wanting to come in.  At these times, when one’s heart is almost broken with a sudden blow, one is apt to be soft and yielding.  What with that feeling upon me, and what with the fright he gave me—­”

“What fright did he give you?” interrupted Val.

“Well, my lord, he—­he asked me whether his lordship had come fairly by his death.”

“How dare you repeat the insinuation?” broke forth Lord Hartledon, with more temper than Hedges had ever seen him display.  “The very idea is absurd; it is wicked; it is unpardonable.  My brother had not an enemy in the world.  Take care not to repeat it again.  Do you hear?”

He turned away from the astonished man, went into the room he had called sacred, and closed the door.  Hedges wondered whether the hitherto sweet-tempered, easy-mannered younger brother had changed his nature with his inheritance.

As the days went on, few, if any, further particulars were elicited as to the cause of accident.  That the unfortunate Lord Hartledon had become partly, if not wholly, disabled, so as to be incapable of managing even the little skiff, had been drifted by the current towards the mills, and there upset, was assumed by all to have been the true history of the case.  There appeared no reason to doubt that it was so.  The inquest was held on the Thursday.