Volume Ii Part 3 (1/2)
”I don't think that is at all likely,” replied the butler, grinning. ”We haven't seen money at the Hall this many a day. As for valuables, Sir Ma.s.singberd had his big gold chain on, with a silver watch at the end of it, borrowed from me years ago, and my property.”
It was remarkable how this ordinarily cautious and discreet person was changed in manner, as though he was well a.s.sured that he would never more have a master over him. Both Mr. Long and myself observed this.
”What time was your master usually accustomed to return home from his rounds in the preserves?”
”I did not sit up for him in general,” returned Gilmore; ”but when I have chanced to be awake, and to hear him come in, it was never later than three o'clock. His ordinary time was about half-past twelve, but it depended on what time he started. He left the Hall last night at about ten, and should, therefore, have returned a little after midnight. I never set eyes on him since nine o'clock, when he was in his own sitting-room reading.”
”And when did _you_ see him last, Bradford?”
”When did I see Sir Ma.s.singberd Heath?” replied the old keeper, who had been chafing with impatience through his rival's evidence--”well, I see'd him last nine hours ago, at nearly twelve o'clock at night. I was on watch in the Old Plantation, and he came upon me sudden, as usual, with his long quick stride.”
”Was there anything at all irregular about his manner or appearance; anything in the least degree different from what you always saw upon these occasions?”
”Nothing, whatever, sir. Look you, I knew my master well,” [He had already begun to talk of him in the past tense!] ”I could tell at a glance when he was put out more than usual, or when he had anything out of ordinary in hand; he never swore, saving your reverence's presence, what you may call _freely_ then. He might have knocked one down, likely enough, if you gave him the least cross, but he was not flush of his oaths. Now I never heard him in a better fettle in that respect than he was last night. He cussed the lad Jem Meyrick, who had come up to me away from Davit's Copse for a light to his pipe; and he cussed me too, for giving it him, up hill and down dale, and in particular he cussed Gr.i.m.j.a.w for being so old and slow that he couldn't keep up with him.
Sir Ma.s.singberd never waited for him, of course; but after he'd been with us a few minutes, the old dog came up puffin' and wheezin'; and when the Squire left us, it followed him as well as it could, but with the distance getting greater between them at every step. I watched them, for the moon made it almost as light as day, going straight for the Wolsey Oak, which was the direct way for the Home Spinney; and that was where Sir Ma.s.singberd meant to go last night, although he never got there, or leastways the watcher never saw him.
”Have you any reason to believe, keeper, that there were poachers in any part of the preserves last night?”
”No, sir,” replied Oliver, positively. ”On the contrary, I knows there wasn't, although Sir Ma.s.singberd was as suspicious of them as usual, or more so. Why, with Jack Larrup and d.i.c.k Swivel both in jail, and all the Larchers sent out of the parish, and Squat and Burchall at sea, where was they to come from?”
”Sir Ma.s.singberd must have had many enemies?” mused my tutor.
”Ay, indeed, sir,” replied old Oliver, pursing his lips; ”he held his own with the strong hand; so strong, however, as no man would contend against him. If Sir Ma.s.singberd has been killed, Mr Long, it was not in fair fight; he was too much feared for that.”
”There has been a gang of gipsies about the place this long time, has there not?” quoth my tutor.
”There has, sir; but don't you think of gipsies and this here matter of Sir Ma.s.singberd as having anything to do with one another. They're feeble, f.e.c.kless bodies at the best. They ain't even good poachers, although my master always bid us beware of them. They would no more have ventured to meddle with the squire, than a flock of linnets would attack a hawk, that's certain.”
My tutor had been setting down on paper brief notes of his conversation with these two men; but he now put the writing away from him, and inquired what steps, in their judgment, ought to be taken in the matter, and when.
”You know your master better than I. If he chanced to come back this afternoon, or to-morrow, or next day, from any expedition he may have chosen to undertake, would he not be much annoyed at any hue and cry having been made after him?”
”That he just would,” observed the keeper with emphasis.
”I would not have been the man to make the fuss,” remarked the butler, sardonically, ”for more money than he has paid me these ten years.”
”In a word,” observed my tutor, ”you are both come here to s.h.i.+ft the responsibility of a public search from your own shoulders to mine. Very good. I accept it. Let sufficient hands be procured at once, Bradford, to search the Chase and grounds, and drag the waters. And you, Gilmore, must accompany me, while I set seals on such rooms as may seem necessary up at the Hall.”
The butler was for moving away on the instant with a ”_Very_ well, sir,”
but Mr. Long added, ”Please to wait in Mrs. Myrtle's parlour for me. We must go together.”
”I don't like the look of that man Gilmore at all, sir,” observed I, when the two had left the room.
”No, nor I, Peter,” returned my tutor, sententiously, as he set about collecting tapes and sealing-wax; ”I am afraid he is a rogue in grain.”
Now, that was not by any means, or rather was very far short of, what I meant to imply; what I had had almost upon my burning lips was, ”Don't you think he has murdered Sir Ma.s.singberd?” But the moment had gone by for putting the question, even if Mr. Long had not begun to whistle--a sure sign with him that he did not wish to speak upon the matter any further, just at present.
CHAPTER V.