"In the name of God tell me—what is it?" I cried, leaping from the bed.
"The——the——I cannot speak it, Sir; the gardener is below——will you go to him?"
"The gardener! Tell me of my wife; is she dead?"
"No, Sir. But she is raving wildly. She has told the whole story—how she killed him"——she shook with horror.
Something told me what I had to expect. I calmed myself by a supernatural effort.
"Where is the gardener?"
"He is in the hall, Sir."
I left the room. I passed the two servants who stood whispering with pale faces near the door, and ran downstairs. Both gardeners stood in the hall; and both were white as ghosts.
"Now," said I, "what have you to tell me?"
"Oh zur!" said the man called Farley, "I went into t'orchard this morning to git soom apples for cook, and—and I zeed zigns anigh th' hedge of soom 'un having been there i' th' night. The leaves they was all tossed, and—and the ground fresh dug. Zo I went for my spade, thinkin' summut amiss, an' begun to dig to zee what they moight ha' bin oop to. And zur, in diggin' I strook summat zoft, and clearin' away th' mould, coomed across a hand—a man's hand, zur!"