“Why did you send Mr. Bakche to Miss Grison’s?” asked Alan impatiently.
“Well, I didn’t in a way, sir, because it was the peacock as sent him to——”
“The peacock,” repeated Marie, and looked at Alan anxiously.
“And well do you know all about it, miss,” cried the voluble Mrs. Verwin, turning to face the speaker, “it being the luck of your family as will never have no fortune till it’s brought back again. And that Grison person as was your uncle’s clerk took it over twenty years back, as I’m a living woman, which we all said when we heard as he was gone and it was missing. I said and others said as Mr. Sorley should have persecuted——”
“Did you tell all this to Mr. Bakche?” questioned Fuller quickly.
“And why shouldn’t I tell him, Mr. Alan?” inquired Mrs. Verwin, wiping her heated face with a corner of her apron and bridling. “He asked if there wasn’t people called Inderwick hereabouts, and I up and told him all about the family. Mr. Batch says, as his father knew some of ’em in his own land, and said as how him he met—not mentioning names, though it was an Inderwick as spoke, and perhaps, miss, a cousin of your very own—well, him as he met mentioned a peacock. So I tells Mr. Batch all about the story of the peacock being the luck of the family, as all the countryside knows, and says as how we believed that Grison person had took it. He said he’d like to ask him or her about the peacock—meaning them Grisons—since he liked to hear them sort of stories, so I recommended her house to him as being comfortable, and heaven forgive me for the lie, seeing Miss Grison—and Louisa’s her name—ain’t got no more idea of cooking than a cat.”
“Oh, Mr. Bakche is very comfortable there,” said Alan easily, and very glad that he had learned so much; “did Mr. Bakche say nothing about any treasure connected with the peacock?”
“No,” cried Mrs. Verwin, her face alive with curiosity, “never a word did he mention of a treasure, and where——”
Fuller saw that he had made a mistake in hinting a thing which was known only to the Inderwicks to this gossip, and hastened to repair his error. “I am talking of the peacock itself, which is a treasure,” he said quickly, “for it is made of gold with precious stones——”
“I know, Mr. Alan, of course I know, sir, for didn’t I see it on my wedding-day forty years ago, when your dear ma, miss, was alive and well along with your late pa. My husband—poor Verwin as is dead and gone—said as he give me a wedding treat, and he takes me to see The Monastery and asked Squire Inderwick to show that blessed peacock. Oh,” Mrs. Verwin raised her fat hands and closed her eyes in ecstasy, “well may you call it a treasure, Mr. Alan, for such glitter I never did see. It was like the New Jerusalem for shine and——”