CHAPTER II

He led Mr. Walker into the farmhouse, and into the best parlour, where, hospitably inclined, he produced a bottle of whisky and suggested refreshment. Over their tumblers, Mr. Walker adopted a confidential tone. “What I’ve to say to you, Mr. Peacock,” he began, “is in the very strictest confidence. You’re not to say a word to mortal soul—as long as you live.” Mr. Peacock twiddled his thumbs. “All right, sir—if you say so,” he remarked. “I’m none a bad hand at holding my tongue. What might it be about, sir?” Mr. Wal…