Timms was not a little surprised to see his old master very unceremoniously leave him, and the sheriff’s wife occupy his place.
“’Squire Timms,” the latter commenced, without a moment’s hesitation, “we live in a very strange world, it must be admitted. Gott says as much as this, and Gott is commonly right. He always maintained he never should be called on to hang Mary Monson.”
“Mr. Gott is a very prudent man, but he would do well to take more care of his keys.”
“I have not been able to find out how that was done! Mary laughs when I ask her, and says it was witchcraft; I sometimes think it must have been something of the sort.”
“It was money, Mrs. Gott, which kept Goodwin concealed to the last moment, and brought about half of all that happened.”
“You knew that Peter Goodwin was alive, and hid up at Mrs. Horton’s?”
“I was as much surprised, when he entered the court, as any one there. My client managed it all for herself. She, and her gold.”
“Well, you have the credit of it, Timms, let me tell you, and many in the county think it was very well done. I am your friend, and ever have been. You stood by Gott like a man, at his election, and I honour you for it. So I am about to give you a great proof of my friendship. Give up all thoughts of Mary Monson; she’ll never have you.”
“What reasons have you for saying this?”
“In the first place, she is married already.”