a few letters before setting forth to take his place upon the
county bench. Sir Henry was a Deputy-Lieutenant of the county; he was a
baronet of ancient blood; he was a magistrate of ten years' standing; and
he was famous above all as the breeder of many a good horse and the most
desperate rider in all the Weald country. A tall, upstanding man, with a
strong, clean-shaven face, heavy black eyebrows, and a square, resolute
jaw, he was one whom it was better to call friend than foe. Though
nearly fifty years of age, he bore no sign of having passed his youth,
save that Nature, in one of her freakish moods, had planted one little
feather of white hair above his right ear, making the rest of his thick
black curls the darker by contrast. He was in thoughtful mood this
morning, for having lit his pipe he sat at his desk with his blank note-
paper in front of him, lost in a deep reverie.

Suddenly his thoughts were brought back to the present. From behind the
laurels of the curving drive there came a low, clanking sound, which
swelled into the clatter and jingle of an ancient car. Then from round
the corner there swung an old-fashioned Wolseley, with a
fresh-complexioned, yellow-moustached young man at the wheel. Sir Henry
sprang to his feet at the sight, and then sat down once more. He rose
again as a minute later the footman announced Mr. Ronald Barker. It was
an early visit, but Barker was Sir Henry's intimate friend. As each was
a fine shot, horseman, and billiard-player, there was much in common
between the two men, and the younger (and poorer) was in the habit of
spending at least two evenings a week at Walcot Old Place. Therefore,
Sir Henry advanced cordially with outstretched hand to welcome him.

"You're an early bird this morning," said he. "What's up? If you are
going over to Lewes we could motor together."

But the younger man's demeanour was peculiar and ungracious. He
disregarded the hand which was held out to him, and he stood pulling at
his own long moustache and staring with troubled, questioning eyes at the
county magistrate.

"Well, what's the matter?" asked the latter.

Still the young man did not speak. He was clearly on the edge of an
interview which he found it most difficult to open. His host grew
impatient.

"You don't seem yourself this morning. What on earth is the matter?
Anything upset you?"

"Yes," said Ronald Barker, with emphasis.

"What has?"

"_You_ have."

Sir He