return
any more. But what do you know of Master Roger?"

"Lead me there and I'll tell you. I can tell you many things you would
like to know."

He seemed to be staggered at my words.

"Do you know him?" he asked.

"Yes; I have seen him, and spoken with him."

"What! Seen Mr. Roger!"

"Yes."

New life seemed to come into his withered, aged form, a new interest
came into his aged face.

"Seen him! When, oh when did you see Mr. Roger?"

"I have been with him to-day."

Still the simple old man did not catch my meaning. He evidently could
not think that I was Roger.

"Where did you see him? Is he coming home?" he asked anxiously.

"Take me to his room and I'll tell you."

Without another word he led me to the room I used to call mine, I
feeling a kind of shiver as I stood within the walls of the old house.

At length we were alone, but it was dark there; we could scarcely see
each other's faces.

"Get a light, Peter," I said.

He hobbled away, and soon returned with a candle, revealing the
furniture of the room just as I left it years before.

"No one has slept here since Mr. Roger left," said Peter tremulously.
"I don't think that anyone dare that knew him, and certainly no one
should with my consent."

"No one but me, Peter," I said.

"What do you mean? Who are you, and--and when did you see Mr. Roger?
Tell me quickly."

"Peter," I said, "does nothing tell you? Hold the light to my face and
then think. Have you never seen me before?"

The old man held the candle as I had desired him, and looked steadily
at me, but there was no flash of recognition, no look of joyful
surprise.

"I doan't remember; I never seed 'ee before."

He said this dreamily, and in so doing relapsed into the old Cornish
vernacular.

"Look again, Peter. Remember how Wilfred and I used to wrestle on the
headland. Remember how I frightened you by telling you that Deborah
Teague had ill-wished you. Think of an awful storm, and that wreck on
the 'Devil's Tooth,' and of the young lady I saved. Can't you
recognise me now?"

Then old Peter knew me, and tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks.

"Oh, Master Roger," he said, "thank God you've come home; but to come
like this, to come home as a----" But he could say no more, he sobbed
like a child.

He had heard then. Somehow it must have been rumoured abroad that I
had killed my brother, and so my presence was painful to him. Perhaps
Bill Tregargus had told th