“She will say nothing,” said Mr. Sant. “The honour of her poor rogue is safe with her.”
Then we fell excitedly to discussing ways and means. The embargo once off my conscience, I was eager to join in the search. But here Uncle Jenico was quite absolute and imperative in vetoing my taking any part in it. He would not, on any condition whatever, have me descend into the hill again. I was disappointed; but he was unshakable, and in the end I had to submit.
It was finally arranged that Mr. Sant, Joshua, and Harry should meet early on the following morning, and complete their expedition, if possible, before the village was awake. And, on this understanding, at a latish hour we parted.
The next day was Christmas eve. I had never known one to drag so wearily. Uncle Jenico and I were up betimes, and making a show of following with serenity our customary occupations. But it was all a transparent pretence. I took no more interest in my books, nor he in his new invention, than if they had been prison tasks. We just perspired for the return of one or other of the party to put an end to our intolerable suspense; and that was the beginning and end of it.
At last a shadow danced on the window, and the door opened, and Harry hurried in. In the first sight of his face we read momentous news. I could hardly control myself as I said—
“Well?”
He had shut the door behind him, and stood there, breathing quickly, his eyes like white pebbles.
“Harry,” I whispered, “was it Abel?”
“Yes.”
“And the letter was there?”