And it was a wonder that I managed to keep cool, and to hold my tongue when I got home--but hold it I did, and to some purpose, and more than once.

During the half hour which I managed to get with Maisie last thing that night, she asked me why I was so silent, and, hard though it was to keep from doing so, I let nothing out.
The truth was, Sir Gilbert Carstairs had fascinated me, not only with his grand offer, but with his pleasant, off-hand, companionable manners.

He had put me at my ease at once; he had spoken so frankly and with such evident sincerity about his doings on that eventful night, that I accepted every word he said.

And--in the little that I had thought of it--I was very ready to accept his theory as to how those two men had come by their deaths--and it was one that was certainly feasible, and worth following up.

Some years before, I remembered, something of the same sort had gone on, and had resulted in an affray between salmon-poachers and river-watchers--why should it not have cropped up again?
The more I thought of it, the more I felt Sir Gilbert's suggestion to have reason in it.