Mrs Mostyn went on, and old Tummus chuckled, and hid the pear just as Daniel Barnett caught sight of him, and having marked the spot, waited till the old man had gone away. He then searched for, found the pear, and leaving it untouched, quietly watched at dinner-time, saw old Tummus secure the treasure, pocket it, and he was going off when Barnett accosted him with—
“What have you got there?”
“Pear,” said the old man stubbornly, as Barnett tried to snatch it from his pocket.
“Now I know where the fruit goes. Why, you thieving old scoundrel. I’ll soon put an end to this.”
“Scoundrel yourself!” cried the old man fiercely. “Smart a man as you are, Dan Barnett. I never set myself to steal another man’s love and harassed him till he went and drowned hisself, if you didn’t go behind and throw him into the tank you won’t have cleaned.”
“Why, you lying old villain!” roared Barnett.
“Lying, eh?” retorted old Tummus; “it’s a lie then that you shoved they orchards off the shelf, I s’pose, and made believe it was poor John Grange. A lie, perhaps, as you laid the scythe for the poor blind man to walk on and cut hisself.”
“Yes, a lie,” cried Barnett, turning white.
“Then you tell it, for I see you do it, I did, and saved him from crippling hisself for life. But we’ve had enough o’ this. I goes straight to Missus Mostyn and tells her all I know.”
“Mrs Mostyn is here, sir,” said a sharp, stern voice, “and has heard all you have said.”