He thought, too, of other things, this old man, as he stood, with his shoulders squared, resolute in his lack of attention to the mean work going on behind him…. He wondered whether God were angry or no. Whether this kind of duty were according to His will. Down there was Padley, where he had heard mass in the old days; Padley, where the two priests had been taken a few weeks ago. He wondered—
"If it please your honour we will break in this panel," came the smooth, sneering voice that he loathed.
He turned sullenly.
They were opposite the old picture. Beneath it there showed a crack in the wainscoting…. He could scarcely refuse leave. Besides, the woodwork was flawed in any case—he would pay for a new panel himself.
"There is nothing there!" he said doubtfully.
"Oh, no, sir," said the man with a peculiar look. "It is but to make a show—"
The old man's brows came down angrily. Then he nodded; and, leaning against the window, watched them.
* * * * *
One of his own men came forward with a hammer and chisel. He placed the chisel at the edge of the cracked panel, where the informer directed, and struck a blow or two. There was the unmistakable dull sound of wood against stone—not an echo of resonance. The old man smiled grimly to himself. The man must be a fool if he thought there could be any hole there!… Well; he would let them do what they would here; and then forbid any further damage…. He wondered if the priest really were in the house or no.
The two men had their heads together now, eyeing the crack they had made…. Then the informer said something in a low voice that the old man could not hear; and the other, handing him the chisel and hammer, went out of the room, beckoning to one of the two others that stood waiting at the door.