"Where?" cried Mr Marston.

"I think it must have been close to the outfall of the big drain,
father."

"There! you hear," said Mr Marston in a low voice. "There is something
wrong!"

"Stop a moment," said the squire sternly. "You, Tom Tallington, why are
you there?"

"Tell him, Tom," said Dick in a low voice.

"Speak out, sir," cried the squire. "What are you whispering there,
Dick?"

"I was asking him to tell you, father," faltered Dick; for their being
caught like this a second time, and the feeling that he was suspected,
troubled the lad sorely at that moment.

"Once more, then, my lad," said the squire. "Why are you here?"

"I came to tell Dick, sir, that I had seen two men come from the town
way past our place, and that I heard them get into a boat and go away
across the mere."

"You saw that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, what of it? Why did you come and tell Dick that?"

"Because I thought there was something wrong, sir."

"You hear?" said Mr Marston again.

"Yes, I hear," muttered the squire, "but I don't like it. These boys
know more than they care to say."

The squire's window was heard to shut, and his heavy footstep sounded
loudly on the floor in the silence of the night, while the two lads
stood listening.

"What shall we do, Dick?"

"I'm going to dress," was the reply; and the speaker began to hurry on
his things. "You had better go home."

"No," said Tom sturdily; "if I've got you into a hobble I'll stand by
you. But I didn't mean any harm."

Five minutes later all were standing down in the great stone porch, the
squire with a stout staff and Mr Marston similarly armed.

The squire looked very hard at the two lads, but he did not speak.
Still there was something in his glance, dimly seen though it was in the
star-light, which made Dick wince. It was as if something had risen up
between father and son; and, rightly or wrongly the lad felt that his
father was looking upon him with doubt.

At the end of a few moments Dick mastered his awkwardness, and spoke to
his father as the latter came down from saying a few parting words to
Mrs Winthorpe.

"Shall I come with you, father--I mean, shall we?"

"If you like," said the squire coldly. "Come, Marston."

Dick made a movement to speak to the latter, but he was staring straight
out across the fen in the direction of the draining works, and fretting
with impatience at the delay.

The next minute a start was made, and the boys