Matt nodded.
“He goes out nigh every night,” she said, “and often don’t come home till morning, Sometimes he finds things and brings ’em. He finds bits o’ gold and old ropes and bottles o’ rum.”
“Very odd. Where?”
“He don’t tell; I know.”
“I wish you’d tell me, Matt. Do, I have a particular reason for wanting the information.”
“You won’t say I told? William Jones would be downright wild, he would.”
“I’ll keep the secret faithfully. Now.” Thus urged, Matt informed her friend that on two occasions, out of curiosity, she had followed her guardian on his nightly pilgrimages, and watched him go in the direction of the Devil’s Cauldron. On both occasions the night was very dark. On getting clear of the coastguard station, and among the sand-hills, Jones had lighted a lantern which he carried. Trembling and afraid, she had followed the light along the cliffs, then out among the sand-hills. But all at once the light and its bearer had disappeared into the solid earth, leaving her to find her way home in terror.
The explanation of all this was, in Matt’s opinion, very simple. William Jones was a bad man, and went to “visit the fairies.”
“Yes,” she cried, “and every time he goes the fairies give him summat, and he brings it home.”
“Each time you followed him,” asked Brinkley, thoughtfully, “he disappeared at about the same place?”