man; and from that moment
dismissed the doubt from his mind, if indeed he had not dismissed it
before.

"Do you know who did fire the shot?"

"I do not; I was not out at all that night. Calne pitched upon me,
because there was no one else in particular to pitch upon. A dozen
poachers were in the fray, most of them with guns; little wonder the
random shot from one should have found a mark. I know nothing more
certain than that, so help--"

"That will do," interrupted Mr. Elster, arresting what might be coming;
for he disliked strong language. "I believe you fully, Pike. What part of
the country were you born in?"

"London. Born and bred in it."

"That I do not believe," he said frankly. "Your accent is not that of a
Londoner."

"As you will, sir," returned Pike. "My mother was from Devonshire; but I
was born and bred in London. I recognized that one with the writ for a
fellow cockney at once; and for what he was, too--a sheriffs officer.
Shouldn't be surprised but I knew him for one years ago."

Val Elster dropped a coin into the man's hand, and bade him good morning.
Pike touched his wide-awake, and reiterated his intention of "dodging the
enemy." But, as Mr. Elster cautiously pursued his way, the face he had
just quitted continued to haunt him. It was not like any face he had ever
seen, as far as he could remember; nevertheless ever and anon some
reminiscence seemed to start out of it and vibrate upon a chord in his
memory.

CHAPTER VII.

LISTENERS.

It was a somewhat singular coincidence, noted after the terrible event,
now looming in the distance, had taken place, and when people began to
weigh the various circumstances surrounding it, that Monday, the second
day fixed for the boat-race, should be another day of rain. As though
Heaven would have interposed to prevent it! said the thoughtful and
romantic.

A steady, pouring rain; putting a stop again to the race for that day.
The competitors might have been willing to face the elements themselves,
but could not subject the fair spectators to the infliction. There was
some inward discontent, and a great deal of outward grumbling; it did no
good, and the race was put off until the next day.

Val Elster still retained his liberty. Very chary indeed had he been of
showing himself outside the door on Saturday, once he was safely within
it. Neither had any misfortune befallen Lord Hartledon. That unconscious
victim must have contrived, in all innoc