“Then you think the squire was wandering in his mind at last?”
“That’s it,” said Jack. “He wanted to provide for me—to leave me something, and he fancied he’d done it. It’s often the case, isn’t it?”
“I’ve met with such cases,” said Leonard.
“Just so,” said Jack. “Is there anything to drink?” he asked, abruptly, as if he wanted to change the subject.
“There’s some whiskey——”
Jack mixed himself a tumbler and sat on the edge of the table, and Leonard Dagle leaned back and watched him.
“There’s something else, Jack,” he said. “Out with it; what is it?”
“What a fellow you are, Len. You are like one of those mesmeric men; there’s no keeping anything from you. Well, I’ve had an adventure.”
“An adventure?”
“Yes, I’m half under the impression that it’s nothing but a dream. Len, I’ve seen the most beautiful—the most—Len, do you believe in witches? Not the old sort, but the young ones—sirens, didn’t they call them; who used to haunt the woods and forests and tempt travelers into quagmires and ditches. The innocent-looking kind of sirens, you know. Well, I’ve seen one!”