and did not check his walk till he reached the lodge
of Stancy Castle.

Here he pulled the wooden acorn beside the arch, and when the porter
appeared his light revealed the pedestrian's countenance to be scathed,
as by lightning.

'I beg your pardon, Mr. Power,' said the porter with sudden deference
as he opened the wicket. 'But we wasn't expecting anybody to-night, as
there is nobody at home, and the servants on board wages; and that's why
I was so long a-coming.'

'No matter, no matter,' said Abner Power. 'I have returned on sudden
business, and have not come to stay longer than to-night. Your mistress
is not with me. I meant to sleep in Markton, but have changed my mind.'

Mr. Power had brought no luggage with him beyond a small hand-bag, and
as soon as a room could be got ready he retired to bed.

The next morning he passed in idly walking about the grounds and
observing the progress which had been made in the works--now temporarily
suspended. But that inspection was less his object in remaining there
than meditation, was abundantly evident. When the bell began to toll
from the neighbouring church to announce the burial of Sir William De
Stancy, he passed through the castle, and went on foot in the direction
indicated by the sound. Reaching the margin of the churchyard he looked
over the wall, his presence being masked by bushes and a group of
idlers from Markton who stood in front. Soon a funeral procession of
simple--almost meagre and threadbare--character arrived, but Power did
not join the people who followed the deceased into the church. De Stancy
was the chief mourner and only relation present, the other followers of
the broken-down old man being an ancient lawyer, a couple of faithful
servants, and a bowed villager who had been page to the late Sir
William's father--the single living person left in the parish who
remembered the De Stancys as people of wealth and influence, and who
firmly believed that family would come into its rights ere long, and
oust the uncircumcized Philistines who had taken possession of the old
lands.

The funeral was over, and the rusty carriages had gone, together with
many of the spectators; but Power lingered in the churchyard as if he
were looking for some one. At length he entered the church, passing by
the cavernous pitfall with descending steps which stood open outside the
wall of the De Stancy aisle. Arrived within he scanned the few idlers
of antiquarian tastes who had