Whilst this regular inspection was going on, and whilst Mr. Knibb was making his official inventory, Mark looked anxiously round to see if he could discover any traces of his friend's complicity in the lawless affair. Suddenly, he espied a sheet of writing paper, which was stuffed into a corner, and which looked as if it had been used to wrap up some little refreshment, such as bread and cheese, or the like. A thought struck him; that scrap of paper may afford evidence of guilt.
He stepped across to the side where it lay, and, on looking at it more closely, thought he recognized his own hand-writing upon it. His own writing? How could this possibly be? He looked at it again: "My dear Miles." Here, then, was proof fearfully clear. This must be a letter which he had written to Miles Lawson a week or two before, in reference to the period of his regularly revolving visit to The Yews, and which he had sent by a careful hand, not likely to have failed in its due delivery.
He hastily seized the paper, and, crumpling it up, thrust it into his breast; but this was done with such an undisguised look of pale terror, that Old Geordie, who, like himself, was on the look-out for traces of his young master's former presence in this unlawful spot, saw at a glance that something was wrong.
With his wonted almost feudal attachment to his house, he hurried to the schoolmaster's help by calling out in a loud voice, in order to divert attention. "To think that we should be such a bad disloyal lot, as never to have minded that 'tis our first duty to drink the king's health in his own 'mountain dew,' with 'three times three,' my lads!"
"Ay, to be sure, so we ought," exclaimed the farm servants.
"Come, then, all of you, out to the mouth of the hole," said the old shepherd leading the way—an invitation which was but too willingly followed by the whole party, with the single exception of Mark Wilson.
"Come, schoolmaster," said Mr. Knibb, "I hope you teach loyalty to all your lads."
"Yes; but not by making them worthless subjects," replied Mark, recovering from his ill-concealed consternation.
"You don't mean to say you are not going to drink his majesty's health and long reign on this extraordinary occasion?" expostulated the excited old exciseman.
"My voice shall swell the cheer," said Mark, smiling; "but my lips shall never touch the white-fire, which might turn me into a fool or a madman."