I could not suggest a direction, however; so he borrowed for me a local guide-book, which dealt with places of interest round the coast, and left me to study it while he went out for a walk to get ideas.
I had no great education; but I could read glibly enough for my eight years. When Uncle Jenico returned in an hour or two, our choice, so far as I was concerned, was made. I brought the book, and, laying it before him, pointed to a certain description.
“Dunberry,” he read, skipping, so as to take the gist of it—“the Sitomagus of the Roman occupation, and later the Dunmoc of East Anglia. Population, 694. (H’m, h’m!) Disfranchised by the Reform Act of ’32. (H’m!) Formerly a place of importance, owning a seaport, fortifications, seven churches and an abbey. In the twelfth century the sand, silting up, destroyed its harbour and admitted the encroachments of the sea, from which date its prosperity was gradually withdrawn. (H’m, h’m!) Since, century by century, made the devouring sport of the ocean, until, at the present date, but a few crumbling ruins, toppling towards their final extinction in the waves below, remain the sole sad relics of an ancient glory which once proudly dominated the element under which it was doomed later to lie ’whelmed.”
Uncle Jenico stopped reading, and looked up at me a little puzzled.
“There’s better to come,” I murmured, blushing.
He nodded, and went on—
“A hill, called the Abbot’s Mitre, as much from its associations, perhaps, as from its peculiar conformation, overlooks the modern village, and is crowned on its seaward edge by the remains of the ancient foundation from which it takes its name. Some business is done in the catching and curing of sprats and herrings. There is an annual fair. Morant states that after violent storms, when the shingle-drifts are overturned, bushels of coins, Roman and other, and many of considerable value, may be picked up for the seeking.”
Uncle Jenico’s face came slowly round to stare into mine. His hair seemed risen; his jaw was a little dropped.
“Richard!” he whispered, “our fortune is made.”
“Yes,” I thrilled back, delighted. “That’s why I chose it. I thought you’d be pleased.”