There was a brief silence; and then Captain Duncombe told the story of the appearance of old Screwton's ghost, and the coin found in the kitchen at River View Cottage after the departure of that apparition.
"I've faced many a danger in my lifetime, George Jernam," said Captain Duncombe; "and I don't think there's any man who ever walked the ship's deck beside me that would call me coward; and yet I'll confess to you I was frightened that night. Flesh and blood I'll face anywhere and anyhow; I'll stand up alone, and fight for my life, one against six—one against twenty, if needs be; but when it comes to a visit from the other world, Joseph Duncombe is done. He shuts up, sir, like an oyster."
"And do you really believe the man you saw that night was a visitant from the other world?"
"What else can I believe? I'd heard the description of old Screwton's ghost, and what I saw answered to the description as close as could be."
"Visitors from the other world do not leave substantial evidences of their presence behind them," answered George. "The man who dropped that gold coin was no ghost. We'll see into this business, Captain Duncombe; we'll fathom it, mysterious as it is. I expect Joyce Harker back from Ceylon in a month or so. He knows more of my brother's fate than any man living, except those who were concerned in the doing of the deed. He'll get to the bottom of this business, depend upon it, if any man can. And now, friend—father, can you find it in your heart to forgive me for the bitter wrong I have done you?"
"Well, George," answered Joseph Duncombe, gravely, "I'm not an unforgiving chap; but there are some things try the easiest of men rather hard, and this is one of them. However, for my little Rosy's sake, and out of remembrance of the long night-watches you and I have kept together out upon the lonesome sea, I forgive you. There's my hand and my heart with it."
George's eyes were full of tears as he grasped his old captain's strong hand.
"God bless you," he murmured; "and heaven be praised that I came into this room to-night! You don't know the weight you've lifted off my heart; you don't know what I've suffered."
"More fool you," cried Joe Duncombe; "and now say no more. We'll start for Devonshire together by the first coach that leaves London to-morrow morning."
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