I was running then, I was." As the boy's answer fell upon the room, a conviction stole over most of those collected in it that this man must have been the one who had been heard in dispute with Rachel Frost.
"Were there no signs about him by which you could recognise him ?" pursued Mr.Verner.

"What did he look like?
Was he tall or short ?" "Please, sir, he were very tall." "Could you see his dress?
Was it like a gentleman's or a labourer's ?" "Please, sir, I think it looked like a gentleman's--like one o' the gentlemen's at Verner's Pride." "Whose?
Like which of the gentlemen's ?" rang out Mr.Verner's voice, sharply and sternly, after a moment's pause of surprise, for he evidently had not expected the answer.
"Please, sir, I dun know which.

The clothes looked dark, and the man were as tall as the gentlemen, or as Calves." "_Calves ?_" echoed Mr.Verner, puzzled.
John Massingbird broke into an involuntary smile.

He knew that their tall footman, Bennet, was universally styled "Calves" in the village.
Dan Duff probably believed it to be his registered name.
But Frederick Massingbird was looking dark and threatening.

The suspicion hinted at--if you can call it a suspicion--angered him.