"'Tis a fairy story," murmured Mrs. Hacker.
"No," he said, "'tis a little child's story—the thing they learn at a mother's knees; and because I was a growed-up man, I missed it. 'Tis a riddle a generous child could have guessed in a minute; but it took one stiff-necked fool from his adult days into old age afore he did."
Susan's mind moved to her purpose, and she knew that never again might fall so timely a moment. She put down her knitting, flung a peat on the fire, and spoke.
"You be full of wonderful tales to-night, but now I'll please ask you to listen to me," she began. "And mark this: you can't well be too hard upon me. I've got a pack of sins to confess, and if, when you've heard 'em, you won't do with me no more, then do without me, and send me through that door. I deserve it. There's nought that's bad I don't deserve."
He started up.
"What's this?" he said. "You haven't told anybody?"
"No, no, no. Ban't nothing about your affairs. In a word, I overheard a secret. I listened. I did it out of woman's cursed curiosity. And, as if that weren't enough, I got drunk as a fly down to 'The White Thorn' a while back and let out the truth. And nought's too bad for me—nought in nature, I'm sure."
Mr. Baskerville put down his pipe and turned to her.
"Don't get excited. Begin at the beginning. What did you hear?"
"I heard Mrs. Lintern tell you she was your brother's mistress. I heard her tell you her children was also his."