e two men were both standing by the
table, the stranger with his back to the women as they entered, Stephen
Whitelaw facing him. The former seemed to have been counting something,
but stopped abruptly as the women came into the room.

There was a little heap of bank-notes lying on the table. Stephen
snatched them up hastily, and thrust them in a bundle into his
waistcoat-pocket; while the stranger put a strap round a bulky red
morocco pocket-book with a more deliberate air, as of one who had nothing
to hide from the world.

That guilty furtive air of Stephen's, and, above all, that passage of
money between the two men, confirmed Mrs. Tadman in her notion that
Wyncomb Farm was going to change hands. She resumed her seat by the fire
with a groan, and accepted Ellen's offer of a glass of spirits-and-water
with a doleful shake of her head.

"Didn't I tell you so?" she whispered, as Mrs. Whitelaw handed her the
comforting beverage.

The stranger was evidently on the point of departure. There was a sound
of wheels on the gravel outside the parlour window--the familiar sound of
Stephen Whitelaw's chaise-cart; and that gentleman was busy helping his
visitor on with his great-coat.

"I shall be late for the last train," said the stranger, "unless your man
drives like the very devil."

"He'll drive fast enough, I daresay, if you give him half-a-crown," Mr.
Whitelaw answered with a grin; "but don't let him go and do my horse any
damage, or you'll have to pay for it."

"Of course. You'd like to get the price of a decent animal out of me for
that broken-kneed hard-mouthed brute of yours," replied the stranger with
a scornful laugh. "I think there never was such a money-grubbing,
grinding, grasping beggar since the world began. However, you've seen the
last shilling you're ever likely to get out of me; so make the best of
it; and remember, wherever I may be, there are friends of mine in this
country who will keep a sharp look-out upon you, and let me know precious
quick if you don't stick to your part of our bargain like an honest man,
or as nearly like one as nature will allow you to come. And now
good-night, Mr. Whitelaw.--Ladies, your humble servant."

He was gone before Ellen or Mrs. Tadman could reply to his parting
salutation, had they been disposed to do so. Mr. Whitelaw went out with
him, and gave some final directions to the stable-lad who was to drive
the chaise-cart, and presently came back to the parlour, looking