"I was looking about for his lordship on the
Tuesday morning, but did not get to see him. In the afternoon, when the
boat-race was over, I made bold to call at Hartledon, but the servants
said his lordship wasn't in. As I came away, I saw him, as I thought,
pass the lodge and go up the road, and I cut after him, but couldn't
overtake him, and at last lost sight of him. I struck into a tangled sort
of pathway through the gorse, or whatever it's called down here, and it
brought me out near the river. His lordship was just sculling down, and
then I knew it was some one else had gone by the lodge, and not him.
Perhaps it was your lordship?"
"You knew it was Lord Hartledon in the boat? I mean, you recognized him?
You did not mistake him for me?"
"I knew him, my lord. If I'd been a bit nearer the lodge, I shouldn't
have been likely to mistake even your lordship for him."
Lord Hartledon was gazing into the man's face still; never once had his
eyes been removed from it.
"You did not see Lord Hartledon later?"
"I never saw him all day but that once when he passed in the skiff."
"You did not follow him, then?"
"Of what use?" debated the man. "I couldn't call out my business from the
banks, and didn't know his lordship was going to land lower down. I went
straight back to Calne, my lord, walking with that man Pike--who is a rum
fellow, and has a history behind him, unless I'm mistaken; but it's no
business of mine.
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