“Look here, Wimble,” said Trevithick, sternly, “there may be a slight substratum of probability in what you say, but it is most unlikely that this young man can have committed such a crime. Now, then, I’ll tell you what it is your duty to do.”
“Yes, sir,” said Wimble eagerly.
“Go back to Danmouth, and keep your own counsel for the present. You can do that?”
“Hold my tongue, sir? Of course.”
“Don’t mention this to a soul.”
“And hush it up, sir—a murder?”
“Pish! It is no murder. Let the matter rest while I try to make out whether there is anything in what you say.”
“Ah, you’ll find it right, sir. Young men like Mr Chris don’t get rich in a day.”
“Never mind about that. I’ll go into the matter quietly. Recollect that it would be your ruin if it was known that you had, without foundation, made this horrible charge against Mr Lisle.”
“My ruin, sir?”