"Why didn't you tell me this, Jarks?"
"Lor' bless you, Miss Sophy, 'twas little use vexin' you. 'Sides, when I found Muster Marlow was gone, arter bein' put away comfortable-like in the vault, I did say to Muster Alan arterwards as it wasn't friendly-like of him to upset my handiwork. But Muster Alan he says as he had nowt to do with the takin' of him, an' how he got out of the vault, being screwed and soldered down, was more than he knew. So he being the squire, Miss Sophy, it wasn't my place to say nothin'. I knows the station of life I've bin called to."
"It was your duty to come to me," said the Rector severely.
"Naw, naw!" Jarks shook his head. "'Tain't no good makin' bad blood, Muster Phelps. Muster Alan wor in the yard, but he didn't take the last of 'em away."
"I say he did!" put in Lestrange, with emphasis.
"Ay, ay! You thinks you knows a lot. But I tell you, you don't. If it wasn't that I let slip to that fat un while mazed wi' drink, as I seed Muster Alan, you'd niver have know'd naught. Naw! But when the wine's in Jarks he talks foolish-like. Ay, he babbles as a babe does Jarks!"
"Who is this fat man he speaks of?" asked Sophy.
"My other witness," replied Lestrange promptly. "You can go, Jarks. Send in Cicero."
The sexton nodded, wiped his mouth, and backed to the door with a final excuse.
"As I wor sayin', Muster Phelps, 'twouldn't be right to blame Jarks for holdin' the tongue o' he, Muster Alan wantin' it so. But the red wine--which is to say, beer an' such like--maketh the heart of Jarks glad, as sez Holy Scripture. An' I'll go now, wishin' you an' Miss Sophy happiness an' long life."