‘Cut away,’ he said briefly. ‘’Ees, I don’t mind if I do come, but I don’t expect to see nothin’ surprisin’ at all.’
Job grinned derisively for all rejoinder, and led the way as requested; walking with exaggerated caution, and turning his malevolent red-bearded face over his shoulder every now and then to make sure that Isaac was following. The latter shambled along at his usual pace and with a perfectly imperturbable face.
As they drew near the dell, a small cup-shaped pit surrounded by bushes at the upper end of the field, the sound of voices was distinctly audible—two voices, a man’s and a woman’s—speaking, however, so low that even when Isaac and his companion were close to the brink they could distinguish no words.
‘Jist step for’ard, Mr. Sharpe, sir,’ whispered Job excitedly. ‘Jist look down through the bushes; I’ll bide here till ye come back.’
Sharpe paused for a moment or two, staring at him with evident displeasure, and then went forward. Presently his tall form towered above the bushes, and he looked down into the pit beneath.
After a long and steady gaze he returned to Job, took him by the shoulder, and propelled him to a safe distance from the tantalising spot. Job, when finally released, examined him with great curiosity; but the farmer’s face, though a little redder than usual, in consequence probably of his recent exertions, was stolid as ever.
‘Well?’ he said in answer to the man’s inquiring gaze.
‘Well, sir, did ’ee see who was there?’
‘Of course I did. Mrs. Fiander was there, where I left her, and my nevvy was there. He ’ve comed home, I see, as I axed him.’
‘Oh,’ said Job, much disappointed, ‘I didn’t know you were expectin’ of him.’