“Not all of them, auntie,” said Joe. “Let us not give up.”
Deacon Cornhill’s affairs were rapidly growing worse, and the poor man seemed to be failing in strength, as if the ordeal was more than he could stand. Mrs. Cornhill grew fretful, and more than once she accused Rob of bringing the trouble upon them.
“It came with you,” she repeated. “If the deacon had not provoked ’Squire Hardy by bringing you and your friends to Break o’ Day, he would never have done what he has against us, and I firmly believe he is at the root of this evil.”
Rob would attempt no reply to this rather contradictory speech, but kept on at his work, resolving to be faithful to his benefactor, let the result be what it might.
About ten days after the arrest of Tom and Jerry, as Rob was down to the village on business for the deacon, he found that everybody there was wildly excited over a robbery that had been committed the night before, the store and post office having been broken into by burglars and considerable money and property stolen.
A crowd of men gathered on the piazza, among whom ’Squire Hardy was conspicuous, were arguing the matter pro and con as Rob drew near.
“Sam Sawyer is ready to swear on the witness stand,” the ’squire was saying, “that the man he discovered climbing out of the store window last night, and who was one of the burglars, if there was more than one, was the same man he met yesterday afternoon on the Hare road, and who inquired the way to Mount Riga, which was the name once given to Break o’ Day.”
“Didn’t Sam give the name of this stranger?” asked a bystander.
“He did; and that is the best part of it. He said he was one Gideon Bayne, and that he lived in town here when he was a small boy, but thought perhaps people had forgotten him now, as he had forgotten the country.”
“Bayne?” half queried, half exclaimed, another, as if the name was one that he vaguely recalled. “Wasn’t that old miser’s name Bayne, who lived and died at the old red house when such a flurry was raised hereabouts?”