“Talking of Mistress Hilary,” said Waghorn, “I understand that she’s betrothed to Captain Harford. When is the marriage to be?”
“Are you looking to be bidden as a wedding guest?” chuckled Zachary. “I thought you bore neither o’ them any goodwill.”
“Truth to tell I thought the Captain was dead,” observed Waghorn.
Zachary emptied his tankard and laughed foolishly.
“I’ve not had the digging of his grave, and yet he ain’t far from the grave,” he said, with the air of one who could say more if he would.
“Zachary!” called the landlord. “You’re wanted at the Vicarage, there’s the housekeeper looking for you.”
“These women! these women! they never can let a man have a minute’s peace,” growled the sexton. “Well, goodnight to you, Peter, good-night. We’ve had a rare pleasant chat together.”
Waghorn smiled grimly.
“It has served my turn,” he muttered, and fell into deep thought.
Zachary meanwhile was despatched to the tower with Gabriel’s supper and the next day’s breakfast, and was still talking in the dusk with the two lovers when Dr. Coke’s summons was heard below. The sexton admitted him, and was surprised to find that Mrs. Durdle stole in on tiptoe after her master.