"Before I dry my things, or come in, I will state my business," said the woman, coming under the verandah. "After that I will accept your hospitality. This is a night when polecats and rabbits would shelter together in peace; and yet such a night as this, a man turns out of his house the woman who has lain beside him twenty years."
"Who are you, my good soul?" said the Major.
"They call me Madge the Witch," she said; "I lived with old Hawker, at the Woodlands, till to-night, and he has turned me out. I want to put you in possession of some intelligence that may save much misery to some that you love."
"I can readily believe that you can do it," said the Major, "but pray don't stand there; come in with my wife, and get your things dried."
"Wait till you hear what I have to say: George Hawker, my son—"
"Your son—good God!"
"I thought you would have known that. The Vicar does. Well, this son of mine has run off with the Vicar's daughter."
"Well?"
"Well, he has committed forgery. It'll be known all over the country to-morrow, and even now I fear the runners are after him. If he is taken before he marries that girl, things will be only worse than they are. But never mind whether he does or not, perhaps you differ with me; perhaps you think that, if you could find the girl now, you could stop her and bring her home; but you don't know where she is. I do, and if you will give me your solemn word of honour as a gentleman to give him warning that his forgery for five hundred pounds is discovered, I will give you his direction."
The Major hesitated for a moment, thinking.