He dipped his hand into his holster; drew out a pistol; and handed it to me swiftly. He took a little bag from his pocket, and muttered, “The barker’s loaded. Here’s powder and ball. In case you need it, lad. You go back!”
I answered, “Yes, I’ll go back, and I’ll remain till I hear from Mr. Bradbury and understand his wishes.”
He said, “I promise you you’ll hear from us at once, lad!”—and as I plunged up the bank, he turned his cob and rode off rapidly.
Chapter XXVII. Suspicions of Mr. Charles Craike
It was afternoon when I climbed back through the breach in the wall and dropped into the garden. I had noted, as I went through the garden that morning, an arbour overgrown with honeysuckle; in the sunshine now it was a pavilion of gold and green. I was hurrying by this arbour when I was startled to hear my uncle’s voice.
“Nephew!” he called; and, turning, I saw him in the arbour, lounging indolently on an old garden seat of marble, yellow with age and stains; his arms outstretched along its back; he seemed bloodless, ivory-white, in the green shade.
“Nephew!” he called again, and beckoned to me. Much as I feared and hated him I obeyed him. He smiled benignly on me; observing my colour and the disorder of my dress, he asked, “Why, nephew, nephew, into what mischief have you been straying? You’re too old for boyish pranks, and I assume too young for philandering.”
I answered, “I’ve been walking in the wood.”
“The wood!” he repeated. “You’re gaining confidence in us, John. A week or two since and you’d not have had the courage to stir from the house. And yet the wood is none too safe, nephew.”
I answered boldly, “I agree with you, sir. For example, I chanced upon two rogues, Blunt and Martin Baynes.”