"It was a dreadful fraud!" gasped Ella.
"Ay, 'twas a fraud," assented Aaron. "It was not me, though, that set it agate; I only helped to carry it out."
"Who did set it agate?" asked Conroy.
"Hubert: my grandson Hubert. Him and the Squire between them."
"The Squire!" cried Ella, reproachfully. "Aaron!"
"It's true, ma'am. He couldn't rest for fear of dying before his birthday; old Spreckley let him know that he'd not live to see it, except by a miracle, and it a'most killed him. Hubert thought of something. He had been reading just then in one of his French books of a gentleman in France who died and was kept alive for months afterwards--leastways was said to be kept alive, to deceive the world. He told the Squire of this, and the Squire caught at it eagerly; and they spoke to Jago, and he helped to carry it out."
"And you helped too," said Conroy.
"I did it for the best--for the best," sighed Aaron, the tears starting to his eyes as he slightly lifted his wrinkled hands. "Moreover, the Squire ordered me: and when did I ever disobey him? 'Twas in this very room, Miss Ella"--looking across at her--"that he first spoke to me. I had come in to get him ready for bed, and he told me about it. At the first blush I felt frightened to death; I said to him, 'Master, it can't be done.' 'It can be done, and shall be done; how dare you dissent!' he answered me angrily, and I didn't dare to say more."
What could Ella answer?
"'Twas all for you, Miss Ella; all for you," shivered the faithful old servant--for faithful he was, despite this wrong-doing. "How could you have inherited Heron Dyke had the master not lived over his birthday? 'Twould have gone right away to the other people. A nice thing for that other Denison to have come in to the old place! Swindlers and spies, all the lot of 'em! If----"