“Yes; there were three last night.”

“In what part of the preserves?”

Her son described the place.

“You are sure they had been killing quails?”

“Yes, and eating them—­two on one side of a fire they had lit, and one on the other; this last man had done all the plucking.”

“Good!”

She kissed him with more than even her usual tenderness, and returned to the drawing-room.

During the rest of the evening she was engaged in earnest conversation with Mrs. Humdrum, leaving her other guests to her daughters and to themselves.  Mrs. Humdrum had been her closest friend for many years, and carried more weight than any one else in Sunch’ston, except, perhaps, Yram herself.  “Tell him everything,” she said to Yram at the close of their conversation; “we all dote upon him; trust him frankly, as you trusted your husband before you let him marry you.  No lies, no reserve, no tears, and all will come right.  As for me, command me,” and the good old lady rose to take her leave with as kind a look on her face as ever irradiated saint or angel.  “I go early,” she added, “for the others will go when they see me do so, and the sooner you are alone the better.”

By half an hour before midnight her guests had gone.  Hanky and Panky were given to understand that they must still be tired, and had better go to bed.  So was the Mayor; so were her sons and daughters, except of course George, who was waiting for her with some anxiety, for he had seen that she had something serious to tell him.  Then she went down into the study.  Her son embraced her as she entered, and moved an easy chair for her, but she would not have it.

“No; I will have an upright one.”  Then, sitting composedly down on the one her son placed for her, she said—­

“And now to business.  But let me first tell you that the Mayor was told, twenty years ago, all the more important part of what you will now hear.  He does not yet know what has happened within the last few hours, but either you or I will tell him to-morrow.”

CHAPTER IX:  INTERVIEW BETWEEN YRAM AND HER SON

“What did you think of Panky?”

“I could not make him out.  If he had not been a Bridgeford Professor I might have liked him; but you know how we all of us distrust those people.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“About two hours lower down than the statues.”

“At what o’clock?”

“It might be between two and half-past.”

“I suppose he did not say that at that hour he was in bed at his hotel in Sunch’ston.  Hardly!  Tell me what passed between you.”

“He had his permit open before we were within speaking distance.  I think he feared I should attack him without making sure whether he was a foreign devil or no.  I have told you he said he was Professor Panky.”

“I suppose he had a dark complexion and black hair like the rest of us?”