The Master of Greylands: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"Don't know. He didn't come back again. Suppose he was crossing over to the Keep."

"Well, go on," said John.

There was not much more to tell. After this incident, the passing of the Master of Greylands, Mr. Tuff bethought himself that he might as well be getting homewards. To make a start, however, was not easy of accomplishment. First he had to find his hat, which took up some considerable tune: it was only when he had given it up for lost that he became conscious it was doubled up under him as he sat. Next he had to pull out his match-box and light his pipe: and that also took time. Lastly he had to get upon his legs, a work requiring skill, but accomplished by the friendly aid of the trees. Altogether from a quarter to half an hour must have been used in the process. Once fairly started and clear of the lane, he came upon Mr. Bent, pacing about opposite the ruins and waiting for Mr. Anthony Castlemaine.

"Did you hear the pistol-shot?" asked John Bent when the recital was over.

"Never heard it at all," said Jack Tuff. "I must have been feeling for my hat."

"And why did you not say at the time that you saw the Master of Greylands--and so have borne out my story?" demanded John Bent as a final question.

"I dare say!" retorted Jack Tuff: "and he laughed at for an imbecile who was drunk and saw double! Nobody 'ud believe me. I'm not a going to say it now, Mr. Bent, except to you. I'm not a going to draw down Mr. Castlemaine upon me, and perhaps get put away in gaol."

And this was all John Bent got from him. That the man spoke the strict truth according to his belief--namely, that it was Mr. Castlemaine he saw both times that night--John could have staked his life upon. But that the man was equally determined not to say so much to the world, fearing the displeasure of Mr. Castlemaine: nay, that he probably would deny it in toto if the world questioned him, the landlord was equally sure of.

Miss Castlemaine heard the narrative in silence. It did not shake her belief in the innocence of her uncle; but it made it more difficult to confute John Bent, and she was now sorry to have spoken to him at all. With a deep sigh she turned to depart.

"We can only wait the elucidation that time will bring," she said to the landlord. "Rely upon it that if any ill deed was done that night, Mr. Castlemaine had no hand in it."