“I saw you, Sir Richard, that night you went down into the vault, the night the child was buried. I saw you, and what’s more, I heard you. You was ter’ble upset. For a man who had just come in for a title and a lot of money, you was upset past natural. Yes, yes. I saw it and I heard, and I want to unburden my soul now. You was ter’ble upset, Sir Richard.”
Pelham colored with annoyance.
“Where did you say you were?” he asked after a pause.
“Just ahint the old yew tree. Oh, I never told, never except once, and that to an old woman, a strange old body who didn’t know these parts. She come here a month back. I told her and she was ter’ble interested. It was wonderful for a man like you to go right down into the vault, and then to groan. Your groans down there was enough to turn a body’s head. I won’t deny that the frights didn’t take hold of me, for they did, and I run home with my hands to my ears and trusting that none of the sperrits of the dead and gone Pelhams would come after me. But you’re better now, you’re all right now. You has accepted your riches in a thankful sperrit, and that’s as it ought to be.”
“Yes, things are as they ought to be,” said Pelham after a pause. “See, here, Crayshaw, don’t talk about this matter. I will own that I was much upset that time. Here’s a sovereign for you. You understand what I mean, Crayshaw—keep your own counsel.”
“A word to the wise is allers enough,” mumbled the old man out of his almost toothless gums. He clutched hold of the sovereign and slipped it into his pocket. As he hobbled away he said to himself—
“Seems to me this ’ere secret of mine is going to become valuable. I got a shilling from that old woman, and here’s a sovrin now from the guv’nor. I’ll make use of this secret seems to me.”
He hobbled away to find the nearest public-house, in order to spend a portion of the money. As he sipped his mug of beer he nodded mysteriously to his companions and told them that he had suddenly discovered a little mine of gold, but he did not tell them what it was; he only excited their curiosity to a considerable extent.
As the old man disappeared up the avenue Pelham turned to the left. He did not know himself why he did so, but the old man’s words had disturbed him and brought back some of the melancholy which had caused his early married days to be so miserable.
“What a fool I was!” he said to himself. “It was really a case of nerves, for if ever a man was possessed of a mad frenzy to his own undoing, I was that fellow. I felt certain when I went down into that vault that a murdered child lay there. The thought maddened me. Money was nothing to me, even Barbara did not seem of the slightest consequence. To win her was little to me then. I was full of the one sole maddening fear that Piers had come by his death by foul means. But those two great consultants in London set me straight, and the chemist finished the business. It is odd though that I still distrust Tarbot.