Part 7 (1/2)
”I don't see what that has to do with my being in a hurry to get home,”
I replied.
”Maybe not; but we want to know where you were lying hid just before you took to running,” said the other man.
”I was not lying hid anywhere,” I answered. ”I was going along from paying a visit to Roger Riddle, after seeing his son Mark, who was caught by the Squire's keepers, and accused of poaching, when being tired I sat down to rest and fell asleep.”
”Whereabouts were you sleeping?” asked the smuggler.
”On the ground,” I answered.
”So I suppose,” said the man, with a laugh. ”But whereabouts on the ground?”
”Not far from the old barn, to the best of my recollection; but it was too dark when I started to make out where I had been.”
This answer seemed to satisfy my interrogator. I was afraid that he would inquire every moment whether I had heard the conversation going on within the building.
”Well, my lad,” he said, ”take care you don't shove your nose into places where you're not wanted. If you're a friend of old Riddle's, I don't suppose you'll have any ill-feeling against the smugglers. So now, good-night. You would have saved us a long run if you hadn't been in such a hurry to get home.”
Thankful to escape so easily, I told the men I was sorry to have given them so much trouble. They accompanied me to a gate not far off, over which I climbed into the lane. I then, as fast as my sprained ankle would let me, made the best of my way home. I found that my family had been somewhat alarmed at my non-appearance. My father, who always took matters coolly, accepted my excuses, but Aunt Deb scolded me roundly for having played truant.
”What business had you to go to trouble Sir Reginald about that young scapegrace Riddle?” she asked, in her usual stern manner. ”He'll consider that you and your friend are alike. He'll not be far wrong either. You have lost all chance, if you ever had one, of interesting Sir Reginald in your favour. You may as well give up all hope at once of being a mids.h.i.+pman. Now I suppose you want some supper, though you don't deserve it. You're always giving trouble to Betsy in coming home at irregular hours.”
”Thank you,” I said, ”I'm not so very hungry. I'll go into the kitchen and get some bread and cheese; that is all I want before I go to bed.”
So thus I made my escape. I had no opportunity that night of informing my father of what I had heard, but when we went to our room I gave Ned an account of my adventures.
”I would advise you, d.i.c.k, not to interfere in the matter,” said Ned.
”It's all very well for our father to preach against smuggling; the smugglers themselves don't mind it a bit; but were he to take any active measures they would very likely burn the house down, or play us some other trick which would not be pleasant.”
Notwithstanding what Ned said, I determined to inform Sir Reginald of what I had heard, still hoping that by so doing I should gain his favour.
CHAPTER SIX.
I revisit the baronet--My information and its worth--Am somewhat taken aback at my reception--Well out of it--Mark's escape--Old Riddle's grat.i.tude--A night of adventure--The run--Night attack on Kidbrooke Farm--The fire--My curiosity overcomes my prudence--The struggle on the beach--The luck of the ”Saucy Bess,” and ill-luck of Mark--I am again captured by the smugglers--Buried in a chest--My struggle for freedom, and its result--A vault in the old mill--My explorations in the vault.
The next morning I found my father in his study before breakfast. I told him of my having overheard the smugglers arranging the plans for running a cargo shortly, and asked him whether he wished me to let Sir Reginald know.
”You are in duty bound to do so,” he answered. ”At the same time you must take care it is not known that you gave the information. He'll certainly be pleased, and will be more inclined than before to a.s.sist you. You had better set off directly breakfast is over, and I will write a note for you to deliver, which will be an excuse for your appearance at the Hall. Do not say anything about the matter to any one else, as things that we fancy are known only to ourselves are apt to get abroad.”
I followed my father's advice, and said nothing during breakfast. As soon as it was over I set out. Aunt Deb saw me, and shouted out, asking me where I was going; but pretending not to hear her, I ran on. I suspect I made her very irate. I noted the people I met on my way, and among others I encountered Ned Burden. He looked hard at me, but said nothing beyond returning my ”Good morning, Mr Burden,” with ”Good morning, Master d.i.c.k,” and I pa.s.sed on. I looked back shortly afterwards for a moment, and saw that he had stopped, and was apparently watching me. As soon as I reached the Hall I gave my father's note to a servant, saying that I was waiting to see Sir Reginald. In a short time the man came back and asked me to follow him into the study.
”Well, Master Richard Cheveley,” remarked the baronet, without inviting me to sit down, ”I wonder you have the face to show yourself here after what has occurred.”
”What have I done, sir?” I asked with astonishment.
”Connived or a.s.sisted at the escape of the poachers I had shut up in my strong room yesterday evening, waiting the arrival of the constables to convey them to prison.”
”I beg your pardon, Sir Reginald. You must be under a mistake,” I exclaimed. ”I have in no way a.s.sisted any poachers to escape. I merely yesterday, with your permission, visited the boy Mark Riddle. He had been captured with two persons much older than himself, and he was, I believe, led astray by them.”
”You, or somebody else, left them some tools--a file and a small saw-- with which they managed to cut away a bar in the strong room and effect their escape. Here are the instruments, which they must have dropped as they were getting off. Do you recognise them?”
As Sir Reginald was speaking I recollected giving the knife and file and saw to Mark, that he might amuse himself by cutting out some blocks.