The name of the lodge-keeper had brought to his remembrance the unpleasant hint she mentioned, and he spoke of it impulsively--as he did most things.
"Mirrable, what man is it they call Pike, who has taken possession of that old shed ?" "I'm sure I don't know, sir," answered Mirrable, after a pause, which Mr.
Elster thought was involuntary; for she was busy at the moment rubbing the coffee-pot with some wash-leather, her head and face bent over it, as she stood with her back to him.

He slipped off the table, and went up to her.
"I saw smoke rising from the shed, and asked Capper what it meant, and she told me about this man Pike.

Pike! It's a curious name." Mirrable rubbed away, never answering.
"Capper said he had been suspected of firing the shot that killed my brother," he continued, in low tones.

"Did _you_ ever hear of such a hint, Mirrable ?" Mirrable darted off to the fireplace, and began stirring the milk lest it should boil over.

Her face was almost buried in the saucepan, or Mr.
Elster might have seen the sudden change that came over it; the thin cheeks that had flushed crimson, and now were deadly white.