The lamp which ultimately was sure to be lifted up to illumine the acts of this secretive race began slowly to dispread its rays; and, as statement followed statement, they saw that all had known of the business:  that all had been down to Belthorpe:  all save the wise youth Adrian, who, with due deference and a sarcastic shrug, objected to the proceeding, as putting them in the hands of the man Blaize.  His wisdom shone forth in an oration so persuasive and aphoristic that had it not been based on a plea against honour, it would have made Sir Austin waver.  But its basis was expediency, and the baronet had a better aphorism of his own to confute him with.

“Expediency is man’s wisdom, Adrian Harley.  Doing right is God’s.”

Adrian curbed his desire to ask Sir Austin whether an attempt to counteract the just working of the law was doing right.  The direct application of an aphorism was unpopular at Raynham.

“I am to understand then,” said he, “that Blaize consents not to press the prosecution.”

“Of course he won’t,” Algernon remarked.  “Confound him! he’ll have his money, and what does he want besides?”

“These agricultural gentlemen are delicate customers to deal with.  However, if he really consents”—­

“I have his promise,” said the baronet, fondling his son.

Young Richard looked up to his father, as if he wished to speak.  He said nothing, and Sir Austin took it as a mute reply to his caresses; and caressed him the more.  Adrian perceived a reserve in the boy’s manner, and as he was not quite satisfied that his chief should suppose him to have been the only idle, and not the most acute and vigilant member of the family, he commenced a cross-examination of him by asking who had last spoken with the tenant of Belthorpe?

“I think I saw him last,” murmured Richard, and relinquished his father’s hand.

Adrian fastened on his prey.  “And left him with a distinct and satisfactory assurance of his amicable intentions?”

“No,” said Richard.

“Not?” the Feverels joined in astounded chorus.

Richard sidled away from his father, and repeated a shamefaced “No.”

“Was he hostile?” inquired Adrian, smoothing his palms, and smiling.

“Yes,” the boy confessed.

Here was quite another view of their position.  Adrian, generally patient of results, triumphed strongly at having evoked it, and turned upon Austin Wentworth, reproving him for inducing the boy to go down to Belthorpe.  Austin looked grieved.  He feared that Richard had faded in his good resolve.

“I thought it his duty to go,” he observed.

“It was!” said the baronet, emphatically.

“And you see what comes of it, sir,” Adrian struck in.  “These agricultural gentlemen, I repeat, are delicate customers to deal with.  For my part I would prefer being in the hands of a policeman.  We are decidedly collared by Blaize.  What were his words, Ricky?  Give it in his own Doric.”