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as he did so he knew that this withdrawal was just what Sir John had planned, but he could not bring himself to turn back for all that. Perhaps, however, his uncle too saw Resmond’s intention, for he followed Thomas, laid an arm about his shoulders, and said very soberly:
    â€œYou do not wish me to sell more land, Tom?”
    â€œIt is your land, uncle,” said Thomas, suddenly almost weeping. “Yours to keep or sell as you will. It is naught to do with me.”
    â€œThat is no answer to my question. Shall I sell more, or nor
    â€œNo,” muttered Thomas, hanging down his head.
    â€œI will take the thousand pounds, then, Resmond,” said Sir Richard, walking towards the fireplace.
    â€œAs you will, cousin,” said Sir John smoothly. “My man of business is with me—he has brought the deed of conveyance and the money. Your servants put him in the next room, I fancy. Perhaps you will have him summoned.”
    Sir Richard shouted for a servant and gave the order.
    â€œShall I leave you, uncle?” enquired Thomas, whose cheeks were still scarlet.
    â€œNo, no—why should Master Thomas leave us?” said Sir John mildly. “He can act as a witness, if he will be so kind.”
    Thomas looked at him, astonished by his good-humoured tone. But Sir John’s little eyes glittered red, and he was flipping his thumb-nails against each other so that they clicked like castanets. Thomas perceived, with delight, that Sir John Resmond was exceedingly angry.
3
    So much troubled was he by the condition of affairs he had found at Bellomont that Thomas for all his youth slept ill that night. Joanna and the child Isabella, whom he had ~ thought would prove his greatest evils, seemed as nothing beside the stony Sir John Resmond, who, Thomas felt sure, would ruin his uncle and swallow his land in the most respectable and decorous fashion possible. Sir John’s sneer at Thomas’s interest in the land was clever, for he had made it difficult for the young man to protest against his uncle’s present course without appearing most ignobly calculating. Thomas tossed and turned in his bed as he composed speeches to his uncle: “Leave your land where you will, uncle Richard, but ... Do it for your sake, not for mine . . . Fortunes can be lost at cards. Suppose you should end in penury? . . . Uncle, on bended knee let me implore you . . .” As he reached this point he realised how impossible it would be in fact to utter such sentiments to his uncle, who would be laughing before he had got out more than a couple of words in a noble tone. He sighed, turned over and was trying oncemore to compose himself to sleep, when he heard Rufus bark in the courtyard below.
    This was surprising, for the mastiff slept usually at his master’s door. Had he slipped out, perhaps, unknown to the serving-men, and was now seeking re-admittance? Was it Thomas’s duty to rise and let him in? Always faithful to his notion of his duty, Thomas raised his head from the pillow and listened. Rufus barked again, and now Sir Richard’s voice bade him angrily be quiet. Thomas sprang up and wrapping himself in his gown went to the window.
    In the courtyard an elderly serving-man held aloft a torch, while Sir Richard, wrapped in a plain dark stuff cloak very different from his usual magnificence, mounted a horse whose trappings were dark too. Rufus sprang about and looked up at his master in joyous anticipation until Simon the serving-man caught his collar and held him, when he whined protestingly. Sir Richard rode off. Rufus gazed after him in sad perplexity, then followed the man into the house with drooping tail.
    Thomas shared the dog’s feeling of disappointment at being left behind. Sir Richard, he knew, was a Justice of the Peace; no doubt he had been summoned abroad thus in the middle of the night to apprehend some malefactor. Thomas would have liked to ride with him on such an exciting