e till after the
trial in August, and then, if possible, to send him to England. There
would be the double journey else, and papa thinks that there would be
no real danger till his evidence had been given."

Then Frank went out of the house and walked round the demesne, so
that he might think at his ease of all the troubles of his family.

CHAPTER XXI.

LAX, THE MURDERER.

Frank Jones found his brother Florian alone in the butler's pantry,
and was told that Peter was engaged in feeding the horses and
cleaning out the stables. "He's mostly engaged in that kind of work
now," said Florian.

"Who lays the tablecloth?" asked Frank.

"I do; or Edith; sometimes we don't have any tablecloth, or any clean
knives and forks. Perhaps they'll have one to-day because you have
come."

"I wouldn't give them increased trouble," said Frank.

"Papa told them to put their best foot forward because you are here.
I don't think he minds at all about himself. I think papa is very
unhappy."

"Of course he's unhappy, because they have boycotted him. How should
he not be unhappy."

"It's worse than that," whispered Florian.

"What can be worse?"

"If you'll come with me I'll tell you. I don't want to say it here,
because the girls will hear me;--and that old Peter will know
everything that's said."

"Come out into the grounds, and take a turn before dinner." At this
Florian shook his head. "Why not, Flory."

"There are fellows about," said Flory.

"What fellows?"

"The very fellows that said they'd kill me. Do you know that fellow
Lax? He's the worst of them."

"But he doesn't live here."

"All the same, I saw him yesterday."

"You were out then, yesterday?"

"Not to say out," said Flory. "I was in the orchard just behind the
stables; and I could see across into the ten-acre piece. There, at
the further side of the field, I saw a fellow, who I am sure was Lax.
Nobody walks like him, he's got that quick, suspicious way of going.
It was just nearly dark; it was well-nigh seven, and I had been with
Peter in the stables, helping to make up the horses, and I am sure it
was Lax."

"He won't come near you and me on the broad walk," said Frank.

"Won't he? You don't know him. There are half-a-dozen places there
where he could hit us from behind the wall. Come up into your room,
and I'll tell you what it is that makes papa unhappy." Then Frank
led the way upstairs to his bedroom, and Florian followed him. When
insi