"He deserves shooting," said my lady, angrily.

"That may be his fate, when Mr. Carruthers catches him," was the grim
reply.

"I told Lord Northdown it was all nonsense," she continued. "I am much
obliged to you for your kindness, Mr. Forster."

There was a rustle of silken robes, a stirring of sweet perfume, and
then Lady Northdown was gone, only to be succeeded by another and
another, until the lawyer gave himself up for lost on account of the
many falsehoods he had told.

"Tomorrow my contradiction will set all this straight," he thought;
"especially if it be followed by a letter from my lady, and I must
compel her to write. I would as soon try to drive wild oxen as to
persuade a Carruthers."

He was not able to start for Ulverston until the end of the afternoon.
It was full two hours' ride by rail from London, and all the way there
the lawyer was worrying himself with conjectures, and trying to solve
what he thought honestly the greatest mystery he had ever known.

It was six o'clock on a bright May evening when he reached Ulverston.

He ordered a fly, and drove at once to the Priory. More than half that
busy town of Rutsford belonged to the Carruthers. They were lords of the
manor, masters of the soil. To them belonged also the fertile lands, the
profitable farms, the hop gardens, and broad meadows that stretched
between Rutsford and the Priory.