“Miss Carlyle is not at home, miss.  She is spending the day out; and my lady does not receive visitors yet.”

It was a sort of checkmate.  Barbara was compelled to say she would see Mr. Carlyle.  Peter ushered her into the drawing-room, and Mr. Carlyle came to her.

“I am so very sorry to disturb you—­to have asked for you,” began Barbara, with a burning face, for, somehow, a certain evening interview of hers with him, twelve months before, was disagreeably present to her.  Never, since that evening of agitation, had Barbara suffered herself to betray emotion to Mr. Carlyle; her manner to him had been calm, courteous, and indifferent.  And she now more frequently called him “Mr. Carlyle” than “Archibald.”

“Take a seat—­take a seat, Barbara.”

“I asked for Miss Carlyle,” she continued, “for mamma is in want of a pattern that she promised to lend her.  You remember the Lieutenant Thorn whom Richard spoke of as being the real criminal?”

“Yes.”

“I think he is at West Lynne.”

Mr. Carlyle was aroused to eager interest.

“He!  The same Thorn?”

“It can be no other.  Mamma and I were shopping to-day, and I went out for her bag, which she left in the carriage.  While Benjamin was getting it, I saw a stranger coming up the street—­a tall, good-looking, dark-haired man, with a conspicuous gold chain and studs.  The sun was full upon him, causing the ornaments to shine, especially a diamond ring which he wore, for he had one hand raised to his face.  The thought flashed over me, ’That is just like the description Richard gave of the man Thorn.’  Why the idea should have occurred to me in that strange manner, I do not know, but it most assuredly did occur, though I did not really suppose him to be the same.  Just then I heard him spoken to by some one on the other side of the street; it was Otway Bethel, and he called him Captain Thorn.”

“This is curious, indeed, Barbara.  I did not know any stranger was at West Lynne.”

“I saw Mr. Wainwright, and asked him who it was.  He said a Captain Thorn, a friend of the Herberts.  A Lieutenant Thorn four or five years ago would probably be Captain Thorn now.”

Mr. Carlyle nodded, and there was a pause.

“What can be done?” asked Barbara.

Mr. Carlyle was passing one hand over his brow; it was a habit of his when in deep thought.

“It is hard to say what is to be done, Barbara.  The description you gave of this man certainly tallies with that given by Richard.  Did he look like a gentleman?”

“Very much so.  A remarkably aristocratic looking man, as it struck me.”

Mr. Carlyle again nodded assentingly.  He remembered Richard’s words, when describing the other:  “an out-and-out aristocrat.”  “Of course, Barbara, the first thing must be to try and ascertain whether it is the same,” he observed.  “If we find it is, then we must deliberate upon future measures.  I will see what I can pick up and let you know.”