Commodore Teague, in his blue sailor's costume, came looming in, his hands in his pockets. He had made haste down from the Hutt (having been obliged to go there on landing, to carry his gun and sundry other articles from his boat, and to light his fires) to hear the details of the mysterious story or, as he chose to express it, the wrongs and the rights on't.
So John Bent once more recounted the particulars, assisted by the tongues of all the company--for they did not stand in awe of this listener as they did of Mr. Castlemaine. The Commodore listened with incredulity: not to say ridicule.
"Look here, John Bent, you may tell that tale to the marines. I can explain away some of it myself. Bless my heart! To think you folk should be running your head again all them marvels, when there's none to run 'em against. That gun that went off was mine," concluded the Commodore; who liked to put on a free-and-easy grammar when in familiar intercourse with Greylands, though he could be a gentleman when with such people as the Castlemaines.
"Your gun!"
"It was. And as to Mr. Castlemaine, you no more saw him go into the Friar's Keep than you saw me go. Last night, I was smoking my pipe and cleaning my gun--for I meant to shoot a few birds out at sea to-day--when who should come knocking at the Hutt door but Mr. Castlemaine. He'd been feeling out of sorts, he said, and thought a sail would do him good, and would like to go with me to-day--for it seems the whole parish had heard I was going. With all my heart, I answered; I'd be proud of his company. He sat down and took a pipe; smoking's contagious, you know: and we talked about this and that. When he left I saw him to the door, and watched him turn up the lane towards his house. It don't stand to reason he'd come down again."
"He told us all this himself, Commodore."
"Did he!--what, Mr. Castlemaine? Well, it's true. After he was gone, I got to my gun again, which I had laid aside when he entered. It struck twelve before I finished it. After that, I loaded it, took it to the door, and fired it off into the air. That was the shot you heard, landlord."
"And the cry?"
"Never was any cry to hear. 'Twas fancy. I made none, and I know I heard none."
"What time was it when your gun went off?"