“Ay, as if the spirits of the dead were in it. Ay, and I feared.”
He said slowly, “I’ve heard it, many a night about the old house. I’ve heard the voices growing louder. D’ye think old Edward lies awake, and listens and fears? He’s near to death. He’s turned eighty years. And all the old rogues about him know him breaking and cease to fear him. He was their captain once by the strength and the will of him. He would have died at their hands but for his strength and will, and never have brought his ship and his treasure home. He’s breaking. What’s to be the end, cousin?”—he laughed savagely to himself. “D’ye think me mad, John Craike?”
“No, having passed a night in the house.”
“We’re like to see the end, you and I and my father,—he has wit enough to win. But that fellow Blunt.”
“A damned rogue!”
“Blunt and his men of the Black Wasp, Thrale and old Mistress Barwise, will see to it yet there’s wild doings at the house. She’s housekeeper, to be sure. Blunt was ship’s boy with old Edward. They think a treasure’s hid in the house. What d’ye think of it all?”
“Think! That I’d have you for my friend, cousin?”
“You’re like to be the heir of all this,” he said, laughing. “Why should I be your friend?”
“Being what I think you,” I told him; “not what you’d have me think. Your hand, cousin.”
He swung round, his brows scowling, his face flushed. He muttered, “D’ye mean it, John Craike? After seeing me as I was last night? You’ll see me so any night of the week. You’ll see me a butt for my father. You’ll find me a cross-grained, ill-mannered fellow.”