Fearful of having an interview with the old lady alone, which was not likely to lead to what I wanted, I stepped from a window which was open, out upon the terrace, and thence down the steps to the lawn below.  The servant had just informed Mrs Oldcastle of my visit when I came near.  She drew herself up in her chair, and evidently chose to regard my approach as an intrusion.

“I did not expect a visit from you to-day, Mr Walton, you will allow me to say.”

“I am doing Sunday work,” I answered.  “Will you kindly tell me whether you were in London on Thursday last?  But stay, allow me to ask Miss Oldcastle to join us.”

Without waiting for answer, I went to Miss Oldcastle, and begged her to come and listen to something in which I wanted her help.  She rose courteously though without cordiality, and accompanied me to her mother, who sat with perfect rigidity, watching us.

“Again let me ask,” I said, “if you were in London on Thursday.”

Though I addressed the old lady, the answer came from her daughter.

“Yes, we were.”

“Were you in—–­& Co.’s, in—–­Street?”

But now before Miss Oldcastle could reply, her mother interposed.

“Are we charged with shoplifting, Mr Walton?  Really, one is not accustomed to such cross-questioning—­except from a lawyer.”

“Have patience with me for a moment,” I returned.  “I am not going to be mysterious for more than two or three questions.  Please tell me whether you were in that shop or not.”

“I believe we were,” said the mother.

“Yes, certainly,” said the daughter.

“Did you buy anything?”

“No.  We—­” Miss Oldcastle began.

“Not a word more,” I exclaimed eagerly.  “Come with me at once.”

“What do you mean, Mr Walton?” said the mother, with a sort of cold indignation, while the daughter looked surprised, but said nothing.

“I beg your pardon for my impetuosity; but much is in your power at this moment.  The son of one of my parishioners has come home in trouble.  His father, Thomas Weir—­”

“Ah!” said Mrs Oldcastle, in a tone considerably at strife with refinement.  But I took no notice.

“His father will not believe his story.  The lad thinks you were the ladies in serving whom he got into trouble.  I am so confident he tells the truth, that I want Miss Oldcastle to be so kind as to accompany me to Weir’s house—­”

“Really, Mr Walton, I am astonished at your making such a request!” exclaimed Mrs Oldcastle, with suitable emphasis on every salient syllable, while her white face flushed with anger.  “To ask Miss Oldcastle to accompany you to the dwelling of the ringleader of all the canaille of the neighbourhood!”

“It is for the sake of justice,” I interposed.

“That is no concern of ours.  Let them fight it out between them, I am sure any trouble that comes of it is no more than they all deserve.  A low family—­men and women of them.”