her support. Now, however, he
suspected she had gone over to Jim.

For all that, Mordaunt's dissatisfaction was not quite selfish. Jim
was something of a savage and meant to manage the estate on business
lines. The fellow was going to farm and make his farming pay. If he
had been a sportsman and made experiments in agriculture when he had
nothing else to do, it would have been different; but this was not
Jim's plan. The strange thing was, Jim's notion of dyking the marsh
annoyed him more than all; the annoyance was perhaps illogical, but he
could not conquer it. Mordaunt was a naturalist and a wildfowler, and
did not think there was in England such a haunt of the Lag and black
geese as Langrigg marsh. Now Jim, with rude utilitarian ideas, was
going to drive the geese away.

The car lurched on the grass by the roadside as it took a corner and
Mordaunt, roused by the jolt, concentrated on his driving. When he
reached Dryholm he crossed the lawn and stopped by a wheeled chair, in
which Bernard Dearham sat with his foot propped up. The old man was
tall and strongly made, but had got thin, and his pinched face was
marked by deep lines. He had worked with consuming energy and
sometimes indulged, for Bernard had nothing of the fastidiousness that
marked his relatives. Now his strength was broken and he was bothered
by gout.

He dismissed the man who had pushed the chair and gave Mordaunt a quick
glance. Bernard's brows were white, but his eyes were keen.

"Take me to the bench out of the wind," he said, and looked down when
Mordaunt began to move the chair. "It will give Creighton a job to
roll out these marks. The fellow grows fat and lazy and I hate the
crunching gravel."

Mordaunt thought the remark was characteristic. The wheel-tracks could
hardly be seen on the fine turf, but Bernard disliked untidiness. When
they reached the sheltered bench and Mordaunt sat down Bernard looked
up and asked: "Where have you been?"

"I was at Whitelees."

"I expect you had something to talk about just now. You and Janet
Halliday understand each other well. I don't know if you are
confidants or accomplices."

"Perhaps we have made a few innocent plots," Mordaunt admitted with a
smile. "However, I imagine it has generally been for the advantage of
the family."

Bernard nodded. "Well, I suppose your objects are sometimes good, as
far as you see, though I doubt if you always see far enough. But I
wondered whe