“But the village is two miles or more by the road, and the old servant would take an hour or two to go and return. Bob might come in the meantime, find me all alone, and rob me of every penny I have in the world.”
“But he doesn’t know where you keep it, surely?” said Bolton, with a dry, cunning smile.
“Yes, he does; he knows I always keep my gold in that chest yonder by the window; but no one, save my friend Redgill, has any idea where I keep my bank notes,” said the farmer, with a sickly smile.
The stranger did.
He had heard Mr. Redgill speak of it as a capital joke that Farmer Bertram always concealed his bank notes in the inner lining of his boots!
But of this he said not a word.
“Ah! it’s a sad case,” said Bolton. “I am very sorry I cannot remain with you until the constables come, but business of pressing importance calls me away.”
Betty, the old servant, was instantly summoned, and toddled off to the village in all haste, much amazed at the message she had to tell to the constables.
Despite all the old farmer’s entreaties Mr. Bolton would not stay, but left at the same moment old Betsy did.
Both of them went down the lane together.