adowitz staggered towards him, and clung to his arm.

"My dear fellow," cried Sorell, aghast at the bay's appearance and
manner--"what have you been doing to yourself?"

"I went up the moor for a walk after tea--it was so gorgeous, the clouds
and the view. I got drawn on a bit--on the castle side. I wasn't really
thinking where I was going. Then I saw the park below me, and the house.
And immediately afterwards, I heard a groaning sound, and there was a
man lying on the ground. It was Sir Arthur Falloden--and he died--while
I was there." The boy's golden head dropped suddenly against Sorell. "I
say, can't I have some food, and go to bed?"

Sorell took him in and looked after him like a mother, helped by the
kind apple-faced rector, who had heard the castle news from other
sources also, and was greatly moved.

When Otto's exhaustion had been fed and he was lying in his bed with
drawn brows, and no intention or prospect of going to sleep, Sorell let
him tell his tale.

"When the bearers came, I went down with them to the castle, and I saw
Lady Laura"--said the boy, turning his head restlessly from side to
side. "I say, it's awful--how women cry! Then they told me about the
inquest--I shall have to go to-morrow--and on the way home I went to
see Lady Connie. I thought she ought to know."

Sorell started.

"And you found her?"

"Oh, yes. She was sitting in the garden."

There was a short silence. Then Otto flung up his left hand, caught a
gnat that was buzzing round his head, and laughed--a dreary
little sound.

"It's quite true--she's in love with him."

"With Douglas Falloden?"

Otto nodded.

"She was awfully cut up when I told her--just for him. She didn't cry of
course. Our generation doesn't seem to cry--like Lady Laura. But you
could see what she wanted."

"To go to him?"

"That's it. And of course she can't. My word, it is hard on women!
They're hampered such a lot--by all their traditions. Why don't they
kick 'em over?"

"I hope she will do nothing of the kind," said Sorell with energy. "The
traditions may just save her."

Otto thought over it.

"You mean--save her from doing something for pity that she wouldn't do
if she had time to think?"

Sorell assented.

"Why should that fellow be any more likely now to make her happy--"

"Because he's lost his money and his father? I don't know why he should.
I dare say he'll begin bullying and slave-driving again--when he's
forgotten all this. B