There was a peculiarity of tone and manner about Learmont as he uttered these words, which startled the smith, and he looked for a moment or two suspiciously at his employer, then he said,—
“Squire Learmont, I have been taught an useful lesson by Jacob Gray. I, too, have written a confession, and lodged it in a place of safety.”
“What mean you?” said Learmont.
“This—that if I should die suddenly, a packet of papers will be found, which will do no good to the Squire of Learmont. You understand me.”
“I do understand you,” said Learmont; “but your suspicions are groundless.”
“Be it so,” said the smith. “It’s best to be cautious.”
“Take what precautions you please,” replied Learmont; “but keep your promise.”
“I will keep it,” cried the smith; “for I hate this Jacob Gray, although he has made me know my own value.”
“Know your value—what mean you?”
“It was Jacob Gray who told me there were documents of some importance about the body of—”