“He said he would transport Tom Bakewell.”

Adrian smoothed his palms, and smiled again.  Then they could afford to defy Mr. Blaize, he informed them significantly, and made once more a mysterious allusion to the Punic elephant, bidding his relatives be at peace.  They were attaching, in his opinion, too much importance to Richard’s complicity.  The man was a fool, and a very extraordinary arsonite, to have an accomplice at all.  It was a thing unknown in the annals of rick-burning.  But one would be severer than law itself to say that a boy of fourteen had instigated to crime a full-grown man.  At that rate the boy was ‘father of the man’ with a vengeance, and one might hear next that ‘the baby was father of the boy.’  They would find common sense a more benevolent ruler than poetical metaphysics.

When he had done, Austin, with his customary directness, asked him what he meant.

“I confess, Adrian,” said the baronet, hearing him expostulate with Austin’s stupidity, “I for one am at a loss.  I have heard that this man, Bakewell, chooses voluntarily not to inculpate my son.  Seldom have I heard anything that so gratified me.  It is a view of innate nobleness in the rustic’s character which many a gentleman might take example from.  We are bound to do our utmost for the man.”  And, saying that he should pay a second visit to Belthorpe, to inquire into the reasons for the farmer’s sudden exposition of vindictiveness, Sir Austin rose.

Before he left the room, Algernon asked Richard if the farmer had vouchsafed any reasons, and the boy then spoke of the tampering with the witnesses, and the Bantam’s “Not upon oath!” which caused Adrian to choke with laughter.  Even the baronet smiled at so cunning a distinction as that involved in swearing a thing, and not swearing it upon oath.

“How little,” he exclaimed, “does one yeoman know another!  To elevate a distinction into a difference is the natural action of their minds.  I will point that out to Blaize.  He shall see that the idea is native born.”

Richard saw his father go forth.  Adrian, too, was ill at ease.

“This trotting down to Belthorpe spoils all,” said he.  “The affair would pass over to-morrow—­Blaize has no witnesses.  The old rascal is only standing out for more money.”

“No, he isn’t,” Richard corrected him.  “It’s not that.  I’m sure he believes his witnesses have been tampered with, as he calls it.”

“What if they have, boy?” Adrian put it boldly.  “The ground is cut from under his feet.”

“Blaize told me that if my father would give his word there had been nothing of the sort, he would take it.  My father will give his word.”

“Then,” said Adrian, “you had better stop him from going down.”

Austin looked at Adrian keenly, and questioned him whether he thought the farmer was justified in his suspicions.  The wise youth was not to be entrapped.  He had only been given to understand that the witnesses were tolerably unstable, and, like the Bantam, ready to swear lustily, but not upon the Book.  How given to understand, he chose not to explain, but he reiterated that the chief should not be allowed to go down to Belthorpe.