* * * * * *
Among the warm friends taken into the family confidence concerning the old bureau was Mr. Spadeley, whose knowledge of circumstances amongst the living and dead of the Falcon Range was indisputable. But it cost him many scratches of the head, many vigorous digs into the old churchyard, many untimely whisperings beneath the elms with the worthy landlord of "The Falconer's Arms," before he could make anything of it. Then a glimmer of light seemed to arise in his mind, and before he had exactly fixed whether its source was north, south, east or west, Miss Evelyn flitted before him, to enjoy the first effect of its beam.
"Well, Mr. Spadeley, you really look mysterious. Have you made any discovery?" she asked, seating herself on the low wall that divided the churchyard from her father's lands.
"Well, miss, I've got a bit of idea, as it were, but I doubt if it brings us any nearer after all."
"Surely it will," cried Evelyn, eagerly; "you will tell it me, won't you, Mr. Spadeley? Or shall I run for my father?"
"Bless you, miss, I'd rather tell you than fifty fathers, and no disrespect to his honour but what will your pretty wit do with it, I wonder?"
"Only try," she replied, laughingly, "it will be the greatest compliment you can pay it."
"Well, then, I've been reminding and recalling things, as it were, for some years back, and I do mind when them rooms was opened, a lot of lumbering things all lying about in the way, and the master bidding the work-people do what they liked with them, and some I know was broke up for fire-wood."
"But no one would break up a piece of furniture that could be put to any use," said Evelyn. "Don't you think it more likely that someone took it home, and that after all it may be standing in some cottage not far away?"
"Well, no, Miss Evelyn, I don't; 'cause why, what sort of folks would they be that would keep anything they found in it that didn't belong to them? No, no, I don't believe there's any of that sort near the old Moat House."