So--so, if we do not find the priest, I trust that you and--and--Mistress
Corbet will agree to overlook any rashness on my part--and--and let her
Grace remain in ignorance."
Mr. Buxton had been thinking furiously during this little speech. He saw
the mistake he had made in taking the high line, and his wretched
forgetfulness of the fourth place at table. He must make terms, though it
tasted bitter.
"Well, Mr. Graves," he said, "I have no wish to be hard upon you. All I
ask is to be out of the house when the search is made, and that the
ladies shall come and go as they please."
The magistrate leapt at the lure like a trout.
"Yes, yes, Mr. Buxton, it shall be as you say. And to what house will you
retire?"
Mr. Buxton appeared to reflect; he tapped on the table with a meditative
finger and looked at the ceiling.
"It must not be too far away," he said slowly, "and--and the Rector would
scarce like to receive me. Perhaps in--or----Why not my summer-house?" he
added suddenly.
Mr. Graves' face was irradiated with smiles.
"Thank you, Mr. Buxton, certainly, it shall be as you say. And where is
the summer-house?"
"It is across the garden," said the other carelessly. "I wonder you have
not searched it in your zeal."
"Shall I send a man to prepare it?" asked the magistrate eagerly. "Will
you go there to-night?"
"Well, shall we go across there together now? I give you my parole," he
added, smiling, and standing up.
"Indeed,--as you wish.
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