gaze uplifted to this
heavenly host, the Major thought of Life and Death and many other
things, yet mostly of my lady Elizabeth Carlyon, while Sergeant
Zebedee, gazing at nothing in particular, dreamed also.

"'Tis as well she should learn nought of the ugly business!" said the
Major at last.

"But sir, Mrs. Agatha----"

"I mean her ladyship, Zebedee."

"Aye, aye for sure, sir, for sure!"

"And if there be indeed villainy afoot--if there is, why then egad,
Sergeant Zeb, I'll not rest until I know who is at the bottom on't!"

"Aye--who, sir? 'Tis what we're a-going to find out to-night I do
hope. And when we do find out, sir--how then?"

"Why then, Zeb--ha, then--we shall see, we shall see!"

After this they rode on in silence awhile, the Major staring up at the
glory of the stars again.

"If so be we should be so fortuned as to come in for a little bit o'
roughsome to-night, your honour," said the Sergeant thoughtfully,
"you'd find this here bludgeon a vast deal handier than your sword and
play very sweet at close quarters, sir."

"By the way, Zebedee, I think you once told me you surprised--er--Mr.
Dalroyd i' the orchard one night?"

"I did so, your honour."

"And did you chance to---ah--to see his face, to observe his features
clear and distinct, as 'twere, Zeb?"

"Aye, sir."

"Well?"

"Aye, very well, sir!"

By this time they had reached the cross-roads and here the Major
checked his horse suddenly, whereupon Sergeant Zebedee did likewise.

"Sergeant!"

"Sir?"

The Major leaned from his saddle until he could peer into the
Sergeant's eyes.

"Did Mr. Dalroyd remind you of--of anyone you have ever seen before?"

"Of Captain Effingham as your honour killed years agone."

"Ah!" said the Major and sat awhile frowning up at the stars. "So you
likewise marked the resemblance, did you, Zeb?"

"I did so, sir."

"And what did you think----"

"Why sir, that Captain Effingham having been killed ten years agone, is
very dead indeed, by this time!"

"Supposing he wasn't killed--how then, Zeb?"

"Why then sir he was alive arter all--though he looked dead enough."

"'Twas a high chest-thrust you'll mind, Zeb."

"Base o' the throat, sir."

"Why have you never mentioned your suspicions, Zebedee?"

"Because, your honour, 'tis ever my tactics to let sleeping dogs
lie--bygones is bygones and what is, is. If, on t'other hand Mr.
Dalroyd's Captain Effingham which God forbid, then all I says is