Herrick was much happier now that his relations with Ida were properly adjusted. He recognised how true was her woman's instinct which had gone at once to the root of the matter. He had never truly loved her, as a woman demands to be loved. The very fact that he had been blind to her feeling for Stephen showed that what he had mistaken for true passion--if it could be so called--was wholly false. He had been attracted by her beauty, by her kindly spirit, by that sympathy which every genuine woman can give to a man whom she finds pleasant company; but of the sacred feeling, which is named love, yet which has no name, he had not felt one thrill. With feminine cleverness she had taken his gimcrack passion in the right way, and had shown him in the kindest of words, how poor a thing it really was. There was no ill feeling in his heart now that he had lost her. He could regard her as a dear friend, and even be glad that she should marry Stephen.

So far Herrick was quite content. Yet there was a vague yearning in his breast for companionship, and sympathy. Certainly he had both from Stephen; but Stephen was a man, and could not be to him what a woman could be. Herrick had lived a life, so active and full of interest that he had never found time to think of love or of womankind. Now that there was--so to speak a pause in his life--the vacuum thus created required to be filled up in some way. For man, was woman created, and Jim was simply yearning (although in his materialistic blindness he did not know it) for the other part of himself. Ida had hinted that what he wanted would come to him; yet so blind was Jim, that he could not see the advancing vision. He looked to all four points of the horizon, and saw--nothing. It was a wonder to him in after years that it had been so with him. But it was but that dense gloom which heralds the dawn. And the glory of day was at hand.

In this unsatisfactory mood, wanting something yet not knowing what it was that he wanted, Jim was anything but a pleasant companion. Formerly he had been serenely strong, never out of temper, and always sufficient in himself to himself. Now he was easily irritated, he smoked more than was good for him, he looked upon his fellow mortals with jaundiced eyes. In vain he rode, he boxed, he fenced, he swam, he took long tramps into the country. External Nature could do nothing for him. The secret of his redemption was within him, yet he did not know how to learn it. Poor Jim! Those dark days took much of his pride from him. He learned then how poor a thing is man; how dependent upon forces which although within himself he is unable through weakness or through ignorance to control.

One form of Herrick's unrest took the shape of being almost openly rude to Robin. The little man was in the habit of haunting Biffstead. He was by this time desperately in love with Bess, and took no pains to conceal his feelings. Manuel encouraged it, for the Mexican was his confidant. Robin would have told Herrick had the doctor shown any sympathetic disposition to listen. But Jim avoided him on all occasions. Perhaps Robin guessed the cause, for he let sleeping dogs lie, and never asked what it was that had come between them. He knew that it would be wiser for him to leave Saxham, yet so deeply was he in love that he could not tear himself away from so dangerous a neighbourhood.

Jim felt that if he spoke to Robin he might say too much, so he sounded Manuel on the subject of their leaving. He wished both men to go, conspiracy or no conspiracy. The mystery of the affair was beginning to exasperate Jim, and as has been said before he was not in his usual good-tempered frame of mind.

One day he encountered Santiago on the common. The Mexican was in good spirits and expressed his pleasure at the meeting. The doctor nodded grimly, but did not return the compliment. "When are you two going away?" he asked. Manuel looked up at the hard tone and saw at once that Jim had made up his mind to be disagreeable. But the Mexican was not lacking in courage and had no thought of retreating. "I do not quite understand what you mean Se?or," he said with coldness.

"I am talking of you and Joyce. When are you going?"

"When it suits me to leave, Se?or. I have every right to stop here if I so choose, and I do choose. As to Joyce, you had better ask him yourself."

Jim saw that he had taken the wrong tone with the man and by a great effort of will became more friendly. "You need not be angry Santiago," he said. "I only ask because I see that Joyce is attracted by Miss Bess Endicotte. That is wrong."

"Eh!" Santiago shrugged his shoulders, "Why should it be wrong? She is a most charming lady and your friend Joyce loves her."

"Ridiculous! He can never marry her," said Herrick angrily.

"There is no reason why he should not. Of course it is none of my business, Se?or, and I fail to see why you should speak to me about it."

"See here, Don Manuel. I speak to you because I know that Robin has come under the power of your will. You do what you like with him, and I want you to take him away. He must not ask Miss Bess to marry him, for the very simple reason that he has no income and no position. Such a marriage would be a bad one for the girl."

"Are you in----"

"drop that!" cried Herrick so fiercely that the Mexican was cowed. "I am responsible for Joyce and for you also, seeing that I asked you both to come here. You must go away."

"So far as Joyce is concerned I shall use the influence you are pleased to talk about to get him to leave. As for myself, the Rev. Pentland Corn has asked me to stop with him for a week or so; I have accepted."

"Pentland Corn!" said Herrick surprised. "What can there be in common between the rector and you?"

"Oh, I know that I am a bad man," replied the Mexican smoothly, "but perhaps this priest may improve me. I believe he did his best with Colonel Carr; but with me he may not fail. We are friends--great friends.

"I do not understand," muttered Herrick eyeing the man curiously.

"Is there any need you should?" retorted Don Manuel working himself into a rage. "Se?or, I do not understand that you talk to me so."

"That's all right," replied Jim coolly. He did not want to quarrel with the man as yet. "We need not lose our tempers like schoolboys. You can stay a century with Corn for all I care! But Joyce----"

"If I have any influence with him he shall go."

"Very good. I would have spoken to him myself, but your influence over him is stronger than mine."

Santiago shrugged his shoulders. "You ascribe to me more power than I possess," said he, "I do not wish to obtain influence over any one. To me Joyce is a pleasant friend, nothing more. When I go back to London probably I shall see little of him. And I return to Mexico in two months."

Herrick was pleased to hear this. If there was any conspiracy, and Don Manuel was mixed up in it, the thing would at all events come to a head within eight weeks. It was time it did, for Herrick was weary of fighting with shadows. Once he had something definite before him he could fight; and a vague threat in the Mexican's tone assured him that he would not have long to wait.

As he had no excuse for leaving Don Manuel the doctor was forced to return to the village with him. On the way they passed Sidney, who was walking towards the moor. Herrick called to the boy, who merely waved his hand and passed on. Jim noticed that his face was singularly colourless, of a hue resembling that which it had assumed when he had slept on the library sofa prior to his announcement of Mrs. Marsh's death.

"How ill that boy looks!" muttered Herrick.

"Pardon me," interposed Manuel, "he is not ill. But he is in that frame of mind which will bring him into contact with spiritual intelligences."

"How do you know?"

"By his rapt look and his fixed eye. That boy Dr. Herrick, is clairvoyant."

Herrick was angry at once. "You are talking the jargon of the spiritualists," he said roughly, "all trickery and fraud."

"Believe me nothing of the sort Se?or. I myself have seen the most extraordinary things."

Herrick looked at him with a disdainful smile. "I know you are not a good man Santiago, nor do you wish to be thought one. But I credited you with more intelligence than to believe in hallucinations."

Don Manuel not at all offended laughed. "True I am not a good man," he said, "and more is the pity. I am afraid to go where that lad can go--into the astral plane. You do not understand? No! you are as I said before, a materialistic being. But I am not a fool Dr. Herrick, and I can tell you that I know something of the psychic faculty. In Mexico I have seen the most wonderful things."

"Tell me all about it," said Jim humouring the man, "I am a sceptic you know. All the spiritualism I have ever seen is humbug."

"This of which I talk is not spiritualism," rejoined Manuel coldly, "it is the occult science. What is the good of my explaining anything to you? You would only laugh, you cannot see, you never will see. The prison of the flesh is too strong for you to break through."

"I am a healthy man if that is what you mean," retorted Jim, "but about this boy? He is queer, I admit."

"Ah you can see that!" said Manuel sarcastically. "I congratulate you. Eh! he foretold the death of Mrs. Marsh. Is it not so?"

"Yes! But that was a coincidence."

"Of course. These things are always coincidences--to you. But to me it is a proof that the boy can enter the astral plane. He does not know what it is; he is not instructed but he can go."

"I don't know what it is myself."

"It is another world that is all around us," said Manuel waving his hand, "it interweaves itself into our world but having only limited senses we cannot see it. That boy has senses finer than ours and he can see. If you gave him a crystal, a blob of ink, any shining surface with depth, he would see the most wonderful things. Have you read Zanoni, Se?or?"

"Bulwer Lytton's romance? Yes."

"Of course you call it a romance; but there is much truth in it. Well, it is useless for me to explain, besides I am not a good man, and to tell you all I _should_ be good. That boy however? You want to make him like yourself. Well then make him eat plenty of meat, and take exercise, make him fat, place him amongst boys who will laugh at him, and he will be like the rest of the world. He will not lose his power altogether. It will come to him at odd moments. But he will not be the dreamer you see him, no! and he will not be able to see."

"I have thought of that myself," said Herrick lazily, "the boy is half-starved and queer--a poet in temperament. I will take him in hand, and----"

"And make him like yourself. Did I not say so?" Manuel paused, then laughed. "To-night if I am not mistaken he will astonish you," he said. "I know the look he had on his face. Something is in the air. He sees it he will tell you about it, and you will laugh."

"Tell me about what?"

"I do not know; I am not clairvoyant. Wait and see," and Manuel turning on his heel went into the Carr Arms which they had approached during their conversation. Herrick looked after him with a smile of contempt. "A charlatan!" he muttered, "and I thought he was only a villain. Humph! I do not think one need be afraid of him--now."

All the same in spite of his openly expressed scepticism, the conversation haunted him. He determined to keep Sidney in his company and see if anything happened. Herrick scoffed at the things Manuel had been talking about, yet he could not deny that the incident of the prophecy of Mrs. Marsh's death was very remarkable. Indeed Jim shuddered as he wondered if this uncanny boy was about to prophesy something similar. However he put the gruesome thought out of his mind, and went to Biffstead. Here he met Joyce coming out of the gate. The little man looked quite joyous, and greeted Herrick gaily.

"Are you just going in? I was coming to you. Miss Endicotte asked me to take a message to you."

"What is it?" said Herrick forcing himself to be civil. It was most important that he should not quarrel with Robin at present. He hated himself because he was obliged to wear this mask; but the circumstances of the case and the interests of Stephen required it.

"Miss Endicotte wants you and Marsh-Carr to come to dinner. She has asked me also. I am going back to dress."

"And to invite Don Manuel I suppose," sneered Herrick.

"No," replied Joyce simply. He either did not notice the sneer, or wished it to appear that he had not perceived it. "Manuel dines with Pentland Corn to-night."

"I hear he is going to stay with him."

"Yes, Corn and he have taken to one another."

"Curious they should, and not creditable to Corn," said Herrick and went inside, leaving Joyce staring after him.

The little man frowned, and his face assumed a most unpleasant expression. "I wonder if he knows anything?" he thought biting his fingers. "He is quite different to what he used to be. I don't care. I can hold my own," and with this defiant declaration he marched away holding his head in the air. Certai............