“No—for tea; and I’ve lived up there with the horses ever since. There’s—”
“Well, why don’t you go on, man?”
“Give me time,” said Crellock, who had stopped short. “There’s Miss Hallam’s mare there, too. She was very fond of that mare,” he added huskily.
Sir Gordon’s eyes seemed half shut, as he watched the man and noted the changes in his voice.
“Well, sir, I’ve lived there six months now, and nobody has taken any notice. There’s the furniture and the house, and there’s a whole lot of money left yet of what Mrs Hallam brought over.”
“Well?”
“Well! why, Sir Gordon, it’s all yours, of course, and I’ve been waiting for weeks to have this talk to you. I couldn’t come to the cottage.”
“Why not?”
Crellock shook his head.
“No, I couldn’t come there. I’ve laid in wait for you when you were going down to your boat for a sail, but that Tom Porter was always with you; and I didn’t want to write. I didn’t think you’d come if I did. You’d have thought it was a plant, and set the authorities after me, and I didn’t want that because I’ve had enough of convict life.”