The attic was as bare as the rest of the house. If the family had left any property there, it had been long since removed by the successive renters.
Herbert went downstairs for a candle and they crept into the low cubby-holes under the slanting roof. Mud wasps’ nests and spider webs rewarded them.
“There is really nothing,” said Herbert drearily.
“Yes, there is!” cried Elizabeth. “Here is writing on this beam. I can’t quite stretch to it, Herbert. What does it say?”
Herbert dropped the candle from his nervous hand.
“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” said he after a glance. “It doesn’t say anything about the battle.”
“What does it say?”
“It says, ‘I have built this house the best I know. God bless those who go in and out.’ It’s signed ‘John Baring.’”
Elizabeth stood looking up at the inscription. Suddenly a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I don’t believe he was a traitor,” said she. “I believe he was a good man.”