“Well, Jim, and what did you hear?”
“Why, Levi said, ‘It won’t do for me to be seen here, so let us have a meeting in some safe place.’—‘Very well,’ says William, and then they spoke so low I could only catch the words, ‘Cricketty Hall;’ but just as Levi were moving off, he said in a loud whisper, ‘All right, then—Friday night;’ and I think he mentioned the hour, but he spoke so low I couldn’t clearly mate out any more. So I’ve come to tell you, Thomas Bradly, for there’s mischief of some sort up, I’ll be bound.”
Bradly did not answer, but for a time a deep shade of anxiety settled on his features. But after a while the shadow passed away. “James,” he said earnestly, “I can’t believe as there’s anything wrong in this matter in William Foster. I can’t believe the Lord’s led him so far, in the right way, and has now left him to stray into wrong paths. I’ve watched him narrowly, and I’m certain he’s as true as steel. But I think with you as there’s mischief brewing. Though William has got a clever head, yet he’s got a soft heart along with it, and he’s not over wide-awake in some things; and I’ll be bound he’s no match for a villain like that Levi. I tell you what it is, Jim: it strikes me now, just as we’re speaking, as Levi’s being set on by some of William’s old mates to draw him out of the town to a place where they can play him some trick, or do him some harm, without being hindered or found out. I can’t explain how, of course, but that’s my thought. Now, if you’ll lend me a helping hand, I’m persuaded as we shall be able, if the Lord will, to turn the tables on these fellows in such a way as’ll effectually tie their hands and stop their tongues for many a long day to come.”
“All right, Thomas,” cried Barnes, “I’m your man; I think you’re on the right scent.”
“Very good, Jim; Cricketty Hall, and Friday night, that’s where and when the meeting’s to be. It means next Friday no doubt, for Levi Sharples won’t stay in this neighbourhood a moment longer than he can help. You may depend upon it, when these two meet at the old ruin, Levi’ll have some of their old mates not far-off, and there’ll be wild work with poor William when they’ve got the opportunity. But we’ll give ’em more company than they’ll reckon for. But now, Jim, we must be cautious how we act. Of course I could go and tell William privately what I think Levi’s up to, but I shall not do that; I want to catch that rascal in his own trap, and get him out of the country for good and all, and give the rest of them such a lesson as they’ll not soon forget. So it won’t do for you or me to be seen going out towards Cricketty Hall on Friday evening, for they are sure to set spies about, and we should spoil all. I’ll tell you how we’ll manage. I’ve been wanting a day at Foxleigh for some time, as I’ve some business of my own there. You get leave to meet me there, and I’ll pay your fare. Go by the eight a.m. train on Friday morning, and I’ll take the train that starts at dinner-time. No one’ll ever suspect us of going to Cricketty Hall that way. I shall tell the police at Foxleigh my business, and they’ll be glad enough to send some men with us when they know that Levi Sharples will be there, the man they’ve been wanting to catch. We can get round to the woods above Cricketty Hall from Foxleigh without being seen, when it begins to be dark, and can get down into the ruins without their noticing us, for they’ll never think of any one coming by that road, such a roundabout way. And mind, Jim, not a word to any one, not even to your missus. All you need tell her is, that I’ve wanted you to meet me about some business at Foxleigh, and you won’t be back till late.”
“All right, Thomas,” said Barnes; “you may depend on it I shan’t say nothing to nobody. I shall just tell my missus afore I’m setting off on the Friday morning as I’ve got a job to do for you, and she mustn’t expect me home till she sees me; and no one’ll be surprised at my turning up at the station, as they all know as I used to be porter there.”
Cricketty Hall was one of those decayed family mansions which are to be met with in many parts of England. Its original owners had been persons of importance many generations back, but their name and fame had passed away. The lands connected with the Hall had become absorbed into other properties; and the building itself had gradually crumbled down, many a neighbouring farm-house owing some of its most solid and ornamental portions to the massive ruins from which they had been borrowed or taken. Still, enough had been left to show that the place had once been a mansion of considerable pretensions. The old gateway, with its portcullis and drawbridge, was still standing, while the moat which surrounded the entire building indicated that it had been originally of very capacious dimensions. The roof and most of the walls had long since disappeared; trees grew in the centre, and spread out their branches over the space once occupied by the dormitories, while a profusion of ivy concealed many a curiously carved arch and window. From the gateway the ground sloped rapidly, affording a fine view of the neighbouring country. Behind the house was high ground, once thickly wooded, and still partially covered with trees and underwood. The Hall was about two miles distant from Crossbourne, and was well-known to most of its inhabitants, though but seldom visited, except occasionally by picnic parties in summer-time. Old tradition pronounced it to be haunted, but though such an idea was ridiculed now by everybody whenever the superstition was alluded to, yet very few persons would have liked to venture into the ruins alone after dark; and, indeed, the loneliness of the situation made it by no means a desirable place for solitary evening musings.
The ordinary way to the Hall was by a footpath leading to it out of the highroad across fields for a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile. It could also be approached by a much less frequented track, which passed along sequestered lanes out of the main road from the town of Foxleigh, the nearest town to Crossbourne by rail, and brought the traveller to it, after a walk of six miles from Foxleigh, through the overhanging wooded ground which has been mentioned as rising up in the rear of the old ruins.
The only exception to the dilapidated state of the premises was a large vaulted cellar or underground room. Its existence, however, had been well-nigh forgotten, except by a few who occasionally visited it, and kept the secret of the entrance to it to themselves.
The Friday on which the appointment between Foster and Levi Sharples was to be kept at Cricketty Hall, was one of those dismal April days which make you forget that there is any prospect of a coming summer in the chilly misery of the present. Cold showers and raw breezes made the passers through the streets of Crossbourne fold themselves together, and expose as little surface as was possible to the inclemency of the weather; so that when James Barnes and Thomas Bradly left the station by the early and mid-day trains, there were but few idlers about to notice their departure.