Lord Hartledon could only acquiesce.  The note was written in terms so positive as rather to surprise him; but he never suspected the undercurrent that had been at work.  In his straightforwardness he showed the letter to the dowager, who nodded her head approvingly, but told no tales.

And so his days went on in the society of the two women at Hartledon; and if he found himself oppressed with ennui at first, he subsided into a flirtation with Maude, and forgot care.  Elster’s folly!  He was not hearing from Anne, for it was thought better that even notes should not pass out of the Rectory.

Curiously to relate, the first person beyond the Rectory to take the illness was the man Pike.  How he could have caught it was a marvel to Calne.  And yet, if Lady Kirton’s theory were correct, that infection was conveyed by clothes, it might be accounted for, and Clerk Gum be deemed the culprit.  One evening after the clerk had been for some little time at the Rectory with Dr. Ashton, he met Pike in going out; had brushed close to him in passing, as he well remembered.  However it might have been, in a few days after that Pike was found to be suffering from the fever.

Whether he would have died, lying alone in that shed, Calne did not decide; and some thought he would, making no sign; some thought not, but would have called in assistance.  Mr. Hillary, an observant man, as perhaps it was requisite he should be in time of public danger, halted one morning to speak to Clerk Gum, who was standing at his own gate.

“Have you seen anything lately of that neighbour of yours, Gum?”

“Which neighbour?” asked the clerk, in tones that seemed to resent the question.

Mr. Hillary pointed his umbrella in the direction of the shed.  “Pike.”

“No, I’ve seen nothing of him, that I remember.”

“Neither have I. What’s more, I’ve seen no smoke coming out of the chimney these two days.  It strikes me he’s ill.  It may be the fever.”

“Gone away, possibly,” remarked the clerk, after a moment’s pause; “in the same unceremonious manner that he came.”

“I think somebody ought to see.  He may be lying there helpless.”

“Little matter if he is,” growled the clerk, who seemed put out about something or other.

“It’s not like you to say so, Gum.  You might step over the stile and see; you’re nearest to him.  Nobody knows what the man is, or what he may have been; but humanity does not let even the worst die unaided.”

“What makes you think he has the fever?” asked the clerk.

“I only say he may have it; having seen neither him nor his smoke these two days.  Never mind; if it annoys you to do this, I’ll look in myself some time to-day.”

“You wouldn’t get admitted; he keeps his door fastened,” returned Gum.  “The only way to get at him is to shout out to him through that glazed aperture he calls his window.”