had his own plan; he was only waiting until the Fontaines' visit was
over, and "that contemptible Craven affair settled."

For he saw plainly that for the time the squire's mind was full of
outside interests, and when Antony discussed a subject so vital to
himself, he was resolved his father should be in a position to feel
its importance, and give it his undivided attention. Personally he
had no ill-feeling toward Ben Craven, but he was annoyed at the
intrusion of so vulgar an object of sympathy into his home. The
squire's advocacy at Eltham had irritated him. He was quietly angry
at Elizabeth and Phyllis daily visiting the dame. And when the
Methodist preacher had been twice to Hallam to see the squire on the
subject, he could not treat the affair with his usual tolerant
indifference.

"I have changed my mind," he said, one evening, with that smiling
positiveness which is so aggravating: "I am very much inclined to
believe that Ben Craven did kill Clough."

The squire looked at him, first with amazement, then with anger, and
asked, "When did ta lose thy good sense, and thy good-will, son
Antony?"

"I had a talk with Swale to-day, and in his judgment--"

"Thou knows what I think o' Swale. Was there ever a bigger old cheat
than he is? I'll put my heart afore Swale's judgment, Ben Craven's
all right."

"He will have strong evidence and a clever lawyer against him. He is