"Speak—explain yourself!" said Mrs. Torrens, amazed and frightened at the strange agitation and convulsed appearance of the boy.
"Oh! missus," he repeated, his eyes rolling wildly, and his countenance denoting indescribable terror; "in that hole there—a dead body—a man's hand——"
"Merciful heavens!" shrieked Mrs. Torrens, now becoming dreadfully agitated in her turn—for, rapid as lightning-flash, did the thought strike her that the corpse of Sir Henry Courtenay was discovered.
"Yes, missus—'tis a man's hand, peeping out of the earth," continued the lad; "and I'm afraid I hacked it with the shovel—but I'm sure I didn't mean to do no such a thing!"
The newly-married lady staggered, as these frightful words fell upon her ears—and a film spread over her eyes.
But a sudden and peremptory knock at the front-door recalled her to herself; and she ordered the trembling maid, who was now standing at the kitchen entrance, to hasten and answer the summons.
The moment the front-door was opened, two stout men, shabby-genteel in appearance, and smelling uncommonly of gin-and-peppermint, walked unceremoniously into the hall.
"Is Mrs. Torrens at home, my dear?" said one, who carried an ash-stick in his hand: "'cos if she is, you'll please to tell her that two genelmen is a waiting to say a word to her."
"What name?" demanded the servant-maid, by no means well pleased at the familiar tone in which she was addressed.
"Oh! what name?" repeated the self-styled gentleman with the ash-stick: "well—you may say Mr. Brown and Mr. Thompson, my dear."