theless, his opinion too had at first been
averse to Sam. Even now, when he was so resolute that Sam should be
released, he founded his demand, not on Sam's innocence, but on the
absence of any evidence against him.

"He's entitled to fair play, Harry," he would say to Gilmore, "and he
is not getting it, because there is a prejudice against him. You hear
what that old ass, Sir Thomas, says."

"Sir Thomas is a very good magistrate."

"If he don't take care, he'll find himself in trouble for keeping the
lad locked up without authority. Is there a juryman in the country
would find him guilty because he was lying in the old man's ditch a
week before?" In this way Gilmore also became a favourer of Sam's
claim to be released; and at last it came to be understood that on
the next Tuesday he would be released, unless further evidence should
be forthcoming.

And then it came to pass that a certain very remarkable meeting took
place in the parish. Word was brought to Mr. Gilmore on Monday, the
5th October, that the Marquis of Trowbridge was to be at the Church
Farm,--poor Trumbull's farm,--on that day at noon, and that his
lordship thought that it might be expedient that he and Mr. Gilmore
should meet on the occasion. There was no note, but the message was
brought by Mr. Packer, a sub-agent, one of the Marquis's people, with
whom Mr. Gilmore was very well acquainted.

"I'll walk down about that time, Packer," said Mr. Gilmore, "and
shall be very happy to see his lordship."

Now the Marquis never sat as a magistrate at the Heytesbury bench,
and had not been present on any of the occasions on which Sam had
been examined; nor had Mr. Gilmore seen the Marquis since the
murder,--nor, for the matter of that, for the last twelve months. Mr.
Gilmore had just finished breakfast when the news was brought to him,
and he thought he might as well walk down and see Fenwick first. His
interview with the parson ended in a promise that he, Fenwick, would
also look in at the farm.

At twelve o'clock the Marquis was seated in the old farmer's
arm-chair, in the old farmer's parlour. The house was dark and
gloomy, never having been altogether opened since the murder. With
the Marquis was Packer, who was standing, and the Marquis was
pretending to cast his eye over one or two books which had been
brought to him. He had been taken all over the house; had stood
looking at the bed where the old man lay when he was attacked,
as though he might p