Miller Harmer, the same hour in which the note arrived, mounted the fleetest horse at Darlington Hall, and set out on his journey to London at a giddy gallop.
He passed the disguised Jew upon the road, who asked the way to Darlington.
“Do you know any one in the village of the name of Harmer?” asked the Jew.
“Yes, I do,” answered the miller, with a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Why do you ask?”
“He lost a daughter once?”
“He did.”
“Yes, poor man, it was a great affliction, wasn’t it?”
“No doubt,” said the miller, biting his lips. “Are you journeying to Darlington with any news of her?”
“Yes; that is to say, I thought I’d call and inform her father that she is well, happy and married.”
“Very kind of you, certainly,” said the miller.