They were now passing the parish church. It stood at the top of the village, surrounded by a small graveyard, from which there was an extensive view of the sea; it was built of granite, and had withstood the storms of many hundreds of winters. Outside the lych-gate was a small, white-washed cottage, seated in the porch of which was a very old man bent with the weight of years.
"That's Granfer Cole," Dr. Warren told his nephew; "he's the oldest inhabitant of Holton."
"Oh! grandfather said he knew about the secret passage! Shall you speak to him, Uncle Theophilus?"
"Certainly; he would be greatly offended if I did not!"
The doctor brought Firefly to a standstill; and the old man lifted his head, revealing a wrinkled countenance, mild blue eyes, and a flowing white beard. He was nearly a hundred years old; but his intellect was as bright as ever, though he was almost blind. He had been a fisherman, and knew the coast well.
"Good-morning, Granfer," said Dr. Warren, in his cheery way. "It is pleasant for you there in the sunshine, and you can get the benefit of the fresh air, too! I know you love the salt sea breeze!"
The old man nodded and smiled. He rose and came close to the gig, peering up at its occupants. The doctor guessed he was curious to know who was with him; so he explained that his companion was his little nephew from India.
"That'll be Sir Richard Gidley's grandson, eh?" questioned Granfer.
"Yes! You remember Captain Gidley, do you not?"
"That I do; and two generations before his. Why, I was a man grown when the present Sir Richard was a child! Think of that! I'm the oldest body in the parish, I am!" and Granfer chuckled, as though he was mightily proud of the fact.