It was only eight o’clock when the elders finished their breakfast, and the children prepared to succeed them.  All the party, except Mrs. Carruthers and Mrs. Carmichael, who had domestic duties before them, and Miss Du Plessis, who had her note to write, strolled out into the garden in groups.  Shortly, a buckboard drove up to the gate, and its occupant, a washed out looking youth, enquired if the doctor was there, Dr. Halbert.  The subject of the enquiry went forward, and found that he was wanted at the Select Encampment, for a man who had shot himself.

“I tell you frankly, my man,” said the doctor, “I don’t care to go to your Select Encampment; there is too much mystery about it.”

“I guess the pay’s all O.K.,” answered the youth.

“Why do you not get Dr. Smallpiece to look after your man?”

“’Cos we don’t know nuthun about him, and he’s too small a piece for our boss.  You best hurry up yer cakes and come on, doctor.”

Re-entering the house for his instruments, the doctor confided to Carruthers his distaste for the work before him, on account of the mystery surrounding it, but said he supposed it was his duty to relieve human suffering.

“Where is it?” asked the Squire.

“All I can tell you is that it is out on the lakes beyond the Lake Settlement.”

“I thocht as muckle,” remarked the Squire to the detective, after the doctor was carried away on the buckboard.

“Let as go and see Newcome,” said the detective; and the pair went round to the kitchen, where the wounded man lay on an improvised couch, and was waited upon by big Ben Toner, anxious for news of Serlizer.  Mr. Nash began:—­

“The doctor says that talking won’t hurt you, Newcome.”

“Dawn’t spause ’twull,” answered the surly fellow.

“Setting fire to buildings with intent to take life is a hanging matter, Newcome.”

“Oo said t’warnt?”

“You seem prepared for your fate.”

“Ma vate was aw raight to I got t’bahl i’my laig.”

“I mean, you don’t seem to care if you are going to be hanged.”

“Oo’s a gaun to hahng us an’ vor wat?”

“You’ll be hanged for arson with intent to kill.  There are witnesses to prove you threatened to kill me at least.”

Newcome started, and so did Ben.

“Yaw cahn’t prove nowt.”

“Yes I can.  I’ve got your pocket book and the odd papers out of your coat pocket.”

“Aw’ll hae yaw oop vor stalun as well as shootun, zee iv I dawn’t, yaw bloody thafe!”

“Keep a civil tongue in your head, man, or I’ll send you to the lockup at once,” interposed the Squire.

“Leave him to me Squire; I’ll manage him,” whispered Nash.

Then, turning to the injurious Newcome, he continued: