“Think of Gertrude—my wife. No, no; it is impossible.”
George pointed at the dog.
“I’ve more faith in him, sir, than in our ideas.”
“Then, if it is true, we must have in the police. Let them make the discovery.”
“No,” said George shortly. “If there is a discovery to be made, I’ll be the first to make it; and then we must have in the police at once.”
As he spoke, he attacked the brickwork with the chisel, easily removed one brick, and the others came more easily still.
“These bricks have not been untouched for years, Mr Hampton.”
“No, sir, no,” said the old man feebly, as he wiped his face. “But it may mean a robbery by some old servant—of the wine.”
“Yes, sir, it may,” said George hoarsely, as he worked away hastily, the dog growing more excited as brick after brick was thrown down into the growing heap, his hair about his neck bristling and his hind-quarters all on the move, as if he were gathering himself up for a spring.
The bricks were all laid endwise so as to form nine-inch work, and as they were taken out it was plain to see that some were whitewashed on both ends, others only on one end, and here both ends were whitened; one end was hard and dry, the other, or outer end, had a coating of moist wash. A trifle, but pregnant with meaning to him who worked.