the trees, leafless as they were,
still varied the monotony of the prospect, and helped the mind to look
forward to summer-time and shade.

As I moved away from the back of the church, and passed some of the
dismantled cottages in search of a person who might direct me to the
clerk, I saw two men saunter out after me from behind a wall. The
tallest of the two--a stout muscular man in the dress of a
gamekeeper--was a stranger to me. The other was one of the men who had
followed me in London on the day when I left Mr. Kyrle's office. I had
taken particular notice of him at the time; and I felt sure that I was
not mistaken in identifying the fellow on this occasion.

Neither he nor his companion attempted to speak to me, and both kept
themselves at a respectful distance, but the motive of their presence
in the neighbourhood of the church was plainly apparent. It was exactly
as I had supposed--Sir Percival was already prepared for me. My visit
to Mrs. Catherick had been reported to him the evening before, and
those two men had been placed on the look-out near the church in
anticipation of my appearance at Old Welmingham. If I had wanted any
further proof that my investigations had taken the right direction at
last, the plan now adopted for watching me would have supplied it.

I walked on away from the church till I reached one of the inhabited
houses, with a patch of kitchen garden attached to it on which a
labourer was at work. He directed me to the clerk's abode, a cottage
at some little distance off, standing by itself on the outskirts of the
forsaken village. The clerk was indoors, and was just putting on his
greatcoat. He was a cheerful, familiar, loudly-talkative old man, with
a very poor opinion (as I soon discovered) of the place in which he
lived, and a happy sense of superiority to his neighbours in virtue of
the great personal distinction of having once been in London.

"It's well you came so early, sir," said the old man, when I had
mentioned the object of my visit. "I should have been away in ten
minutes more. Parish business, sir, and a goodish long trot before
it's all done for a man at my age. But, bless you, I'm strong on my
legs still! As long as a man don't give at his legs, there's a deal of
work left in him. Don't you think so yourself, sir?"

He took his keys down while he was talking from a hook behind the
fireplace, and locked his cottage door behind us.

"Nobody at home to keep hou