nd of his own; and that Martin might stumble any day
upon the proof that was lacking. And then death set a term to Martin's
hopes, and Lord Blandamer was free again.

But not for long, for in a little while he heard of an old organist who
had taken up Martin's role--a meddlesome busybody who fished in troubled
waters, for the trouble's sake. What had such a mean man as this to do
with lands, and titles, and coats of arms? And yet this man was talking
under his breath in Cullerne of crimes, and clues, and retribution near
at hand. And then death put a term to Sharnall's talk, and Lord
Blandamer was free again.

Free for a longer space, free this time finally for ever; and he
married, and marriage set the seal on his security, and the heir was
born, and the nebuly coat was safe. But now a new confuter had risen to
balk him. Was he fighting with dragon's spawn? Were fresh enemies to
spring up from the--The simile did not suit his mood, and he truncated
it. Was this young architect, whose very food and wages in Cullerne
were being paid for by the money that he, Lord Blandamer, saw fit to
spend upon the church, indeed to be the avenger? Was his own creature
to turn and rend him? He smiled at the very irony of the thing, and
then he brushed aside reflections on the past, and stifled even the
beginnings of regret, if, indeed, any existed. He would look at the
present, he would understand exactly how matters stood.

Lord Blandamer came back to Fording at nightfall, and spent the hour
before dinner in his library. He wrote some business letters which
could not be postponed, but after dinner read aloud to his wife. He had
a pleasant and well-trained voice, and amused Lady Blandamer by reading
from the "Ingoldsby Legends," a new series of which had recently
appeared.

Whilst he read Anastasia worked at some hangings, which had been left
unfinished by the last Lady Blandamer. The old lord's wife had gone out
very little, but passed her time for the most part with her gardens, and
with curious needlework. For years she had been copying some moth-eaten
fragments of Stuart tapestry, and at her death left the work still
uncompleted. The housekeeper had shown these half-finished things and
explained what they were, and Anastasia had asked Lord Blandamer whether
it would be agreeable to him that she should go on with them. The idea
pleased him, and so she plodded away evening by evening, very carefully
and slowly, th