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 Beaumanoir dropped into a chair, and to gratify his kindly host accepted a horn tankard of home-brewed ale, which he sipped while he satisfied Mayne’s curiosity about the “accident.” He would have given much to take the keeper into his confidence about the personal element in the outrage, but that luxury could not be indulged in without impossible disclosures. Considering that he had eliminated the most pertinent part of his narrative, he was unable to account for the growing gravity with which it was received till Mayne disburdened himself.

“I wonder your Grace can take your narrow escape so lightly,” said the keeper. “Providence must have been in two minds about you to-night.”

“How so?” asked the Duke, starting. Surely General Sadgrove had not been spreading indiscreet reports in the county already. There had not been time.

“It isn’t a fortnight since his Grace your uncle and your cousin were killed on the railway,” replied the keeper.

The coincidence had not occurred to Beaumanoir, nor if it had would it have troubled him; but he was relieved to find that Mayne’s