d follow him till he disappeared, but it would
have taken a wise man to read them. After a meditative minute or so he
coiled up his wire, pocketed it, and made off across the face of the rock
by a giddy track which withdrew him at once from Jim Burdon's sight.

And Jim Burdon, pondering what he had seen, withdrew himself from hiding
and went off to report to Macklin that Charley Hannaford had an
accomplice, that the pair were laying snares on the White Rock, and that a
little caution would lay them both by the heels.

II.

Walter a Cleeve did not arrive at the Court by the front entrance, but by
a door which admitted to his mother's wing of the house, through the
eastern garden secluded and reserved for her use. This was his way.
From childhood he and his mother had lived in a sort of conspiracy--
intending no guile, be it understood. She was a Roman Catholic.
Her husband, good easy man, held to the Church of England, in which he had
been bred; but held to it without bigotry, and supposed heaven within the
reach of all who went through life cleanly and honourably. By consequence
the lady had her way, and reared the boy in her own faith. She had
delicate health, too--a weapon which makes a woman all but invincible when
pitted against a man of delicate feeling.

The Squire, though shy, was affectionate. He sincerely loved his boy, and
there was really no good reason why he and Walter should not open their
hearts to one another. But somehow the religious barrier, which he did
his best to ignore, had gradually risen like an impalpable fence about
him, and kept him a dignified exile in his own house. For years all the
indoor servants, chosen by Mrs. a Cleeve, had been Roman Catholics.
In his own sphere--in the management of the estate--he did as he wished;
in hers he was less often consulted than Father Halloran, and had ceased
to resent this, having stifled his first angry feelings and told himself
that it did not become a man to wrangle with women and priests. He found
it less tolerable that Walter and his mother laid their plans together
before coming to him. Why? Good Heavens! (he reflected testily) the boy
might come and ask for anything in reason, and welcome! To give, even
after grumbling a bit, is one of a father's dearest privileges. But no:
when Walter wanted anything--which was seldom--he must go to his mother
and tell her, and his mother promised to "manage it." In his secret heart
the Squi