WHAT THE LETTER SAID.
We were all sitting very sombrely in the gloaming, when Mr. Sant
came in to us. There was no need to question anything but his face.
“Yes,” he said, “it is over. God give him mercy!”
By common consent we would speak no more on the subject until nature
had been restored. There was a scent of battle, not to speak of eggs
and bacon, in the air, which inspired us somehow to brace up our loins
before the ordeal. Tea was on the table, and we sat down to it, and
presently were doing justice to Uncle Jenico’s plentiful fare. Then,
refreshed and reinvigorated, we pulled our chairs to the fire, and the
ball began.
“Now, Mr. Pilbrow,” opened the rector, cautiously, “what is your next
move?”
“To find and search my brother Abel’s body,” answered Joshua, prompt
and perfectly cool. “What is yours?”
“To go straight to the squire, and put the whole matter into the hands
of the law,” said Mr. Sant.
“You will give me a day or two first?”
“No!”
“One day?”
“No.”
Joshua scrambled to his feet, and went to and fro.
“This is intolerable, sir. It is my brother who was done to death, and
the cause is mine.”
“It is the cleansing of my parish, sir, and the cause is mine.”
“I must secure my treasure first, sir.”
“Your treasure be----!”
I am sorry to say Mr. Sant went the whole length of the expression.
“Your parish,” said Joshua, viciously, “has postponed its cleansing
six years. A couple of days longer won’t spoil it.”
“It would spoil my conscience in my own eyes, Mr. Pilbrow. I do not
compound a felony, now I know of it, for an hour.”
“Then go at once, sir, to be consistent, and, to satisfy your
conscience, defraud this orphan, your pupil, of his just
indemnification.”
The clergyman rose to his feet.
“Indemnification? For what, sir?” he said, very sternly.
“For the loss of his fortune, of his father, sir,” said Joshua, as
resolutely; “who, to vindicate the truth, died and left him bankrupt
of his legitimate expectations.”
Uncle Jenico, shifting nervously in his seat, put in a pacifying word.
The truth is, the dear old fellow had been in a suppressed state of
excitement ever since our visitor’s first dark allusion to his mission
on these coasts had begun to shadow itself out into some form and
substance.
“Sant,” he said, “I think you must be reasonable. We don’t stand first
in this matter. The treasure----”
“Nonsense!” interrupted the clergyman loudly. “Do you credit a word of
the stuff!”
“To be sceptical without knowledge--the boast of fools!” cried Joshua,
repeating himself.
“Hush!” said Uncle Jenico. “Sant, hadn’t we better first learn from
Mr. Pilbrow how he proposes to act in event of the--the clew really
coming to light?”
The rector was silent.
“You are an adept in matters of conscience, sir,” said the bookseller,
bitterly and rather violently. “There was no question of hurry when
you wanted to use us to help you smuggle a soul into salvation. I
won’t say that, if I’d foreseen your intention, I should have
postponed my forgiveness till I’d gone to the hill and verified the
man’s words; but I do say that in acting on a generous impulse,
without a thought of possible consequences to myself, I was playing a
better Christian part than you, who had this damning sequel in your
mind all the time.”
Harry, very restless, cried out here sensibly enough--
“Aren’t we rather fighting in the dark? It mayn’t be Mr. Pilbrow’s
brother that was the supposed spy, after all, in which case there’s no
question of treasure. I think he’s the right to go and see first,
before any steps are taken. I beg your pardon, sir.”
Mr. Sant sighed, his brow lightened, and he patted the boy’s shoulder
approvingly.
“Good fellow!” he said. “No doubt it would be best to clear the air of
this fantastic stuff, before we begin to set our house in order.”
Then he turned to Joshua genially.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Pilbrow. I was betrayed into some
unwarrantable heat. I confess we look at this matter from different
points of view; but that is not to say that mine is necessarily the
right one. Indeed, you have given me a lesson in Christianity, to
which I seem to make, I admit, a scurvy return.”
The little bookseller bowed, grimly still, but without answer.
“If then,” said the clergyman, biting under the irony that would make
itself felt in his words, “you find this clew--find this marvellous
deposit of wealth--there are laws of treasure-trove: you cannot think
for a moment that I will, that I can, counsel secrecy--allow Richard
to share in the profits of a felony----”
“Felony, sir!” cried Joshua.
“Is not that what a hoodwinking of the law would amount too? You agree
with me, Mr. Paxton?”
“Yes, yes--O yes, of course!” assented Uncle Jenico, faintly.
“Harkee, Mr. Parson!” cried Joshua, in a heat. “I throw the word in
your teeth. I am no suborner, sir, no, nor glorifier of my own
ignorance neither. Be sure I don’t know the law better than you,
before you tax me in advance with cheating it.”
“Well, well,” said Mr. Sant, smiling. “I don’t know the law on the
subject, I confess.”
“Then take this, sir, for your rebuke,” said the other, sourly; “and
be less apt--for a clergyman--to damn without book. The law of
England--I _do_ know it, and have reason to--takes its definition of
treasure-trove from the jurist Paulus, who lays down that ‘_vetus
depositio pecuniae cujus dominus ignoratur_,’ that is to say, ancient
concealed treasure of which the lord of the soil is ignorant, becomes,
being discovered, the property of the Crown, if presumptively
deposited by some one who at the time intended to reclaim it.”
“Exactly,” put in Mr. Sant. “And yet, in the face of----”
“Will you permit me?” interrupted the bookseller, with a manner of
most frosty sarcasm. “For all your cloth, sir, I would not have you on
a jury, lest you stopped the case before hearing the other side.”
The rector muttered an apology. He really did look abashed.
“I say,” repeated Joshua, “that the Crown, to prove its title to
treasure-trove, must prove the depositor’s intention to reclaim first.
Where that is wanting, or _where an intention to abandon can be
shown_--as when the goods were thrown away in a panic, or for other
reason, to be rid of them--the treasure remains wholly and solely in
the possession of the finder.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Sant, plucking up heart. “And what benefit is
that alternative to you?”
“What benefit! To me!” cried Joshua. “Have you heard my story, sir?
Did you listen to it? Did you hear me quote the man Vining’s
confession that he had abandoned the price of his iniquity, and cast
it from him?”
Mr. Sant reflected. He was getting interested, I was sure, after all.
“’Tis a subtle legal point, I think,” said he. “I foresee, anyhow,
fine complications; even if you had evidence--which you have not--of
this intention to abandon.”
“Which I have not,” repeated Joshua, “at present. And which I shall
never have, to the right effect, if your delicate conscience can
forestall me.”
“You are unnecessarily sarcastic, sir,” said the clergyman, gravely.
“You must give me the credit of my intentions. This Augean stable in
our midst--it must be cleaned out as soon as recognized, or I become
an accomplice in its condition. Why should any prompt summoning of the
sweeper--of our legal Hercules--affect your position?”
“Because, sir,” said Joshua, vigorously, “he would, a thousand to one,
lay bare, in so drastic a process, the golden deposit underneath, and
so rob me of any title to its discovery.”
Mr. Sant grunted uneasily.
“The better title is certainly yours,” he conceded.
I believe there was enough of the imaginative boy yet left in him to
thrill and respond to this exciting legend of gold. Uncle Jenico felt
the change, and fell back, glistening, and softly rubbing his hands
together.
“Mr. Pilbrow,” said the clergyman, suddenly and decisively, “will you
tell me plainly what you propose?”
“I propose,” said Joshua, as instantly, “to visit, and identify, and
search the remains of my unhappy brother to-morrow; I propose to take
advantage of the letter which, I am convinced, will be found on them,
and which, by every right, is legally mine, to secure the treasure.
After that, sir, let in your Hercules with a fire-hose, if you will. I
shall be content for my part. Possession is eleven points in the law,
and for the twelfth I will go to pitch-and-toss with it.”
“Sant, that is certainly fair!” cried out Uncle Jenico, impulsively,
and immediately fell abashed.
A longish silence ensued.
“Very well,” said our dear rector at last. “I will agree to defer my
action till after to-morrow; but on condition that, once having
secured his wonderful haul, Mr. Pilbrow openly challenges the law to
deprive him of it. It is buying a pig in a poke, I believe; but I must
guard myself by insisting.”
He uttered a rather enjoying laugh, which he tried to make ironic.
“That’s capital,” said Uncle Jenico. “You don’t object to the
condition, Mr. Pilbrow?”
“No,” said Joshua, shortly. “I ask for complete secrecy in the mean
time--that is all. That man’s wife----”
“She will say nothing,” said Mr. Sant. “The honour of her poor rogue
is safe with her.”
Then we fell excitedly to discussing ways and means. The embargo once
off my conscience, I was eager to join in the search. But here Uncle
Jenico was quite absolute and imperative in vetoing my taking any part
in it. He would not, on any condition whatever, have me descend into
the hill again. I was disappointed; but he was unshakable, and in the
end I had to submit.
It was finally arranged that Mr. Sant, Joshua, and Harry should meet
early on the following morning, and complete their expedition, if
possible, before the village was awake. And, on this understanding, at
a latish hour we parted.
The next day was Christmas eve. I had never known one to drag so
wearily. Uncle Jenico and I were up betimes, and making a show of
following with serenity our customary occupations. But it was all a
transparent pretence. I took no more interest in my books, nor he in
his new invention, than if they had been prison tasks. We just
perspired for the return of one or other of the party to put an end to
our intolerable suspense; and that was the beginning and end of it.
At last a shadow danced on the window, and the door opened, and Harry
hurried in. In the first sight of his face we read momentous news. I
could hardly control myself as I said--
“Well?”
He had shut the door behind him, and stood there, breathing quickly,
his eyes like white pebbles.
“Harry,” I whispered, “_was_ it Abel?”
“Yes.”
“And the letter was there?”
“Yes--in his pocket. He--I could hardly look--he seemed to fall to
pieces.”
“And--and it said where?”
“Yes. You’ll never believe.”
“Where?”
“In the well.”
“In the----”
“In the well. What fools we were never to think of that before! Of
course it stood at the end of the crypts once--the most natural place
for him to throw them into.”
His “them” seemed to hit me in the throat. I had forgotten about the
murdered priest. I stood gaping like an idiot, lost in the plain
marvel of the thing. I had forgotten Uncle Jenico, till his voice,
speaking in a queer, shaky way, recalled me to the thought of him.
“My wrench!” he said. “They will have sunk to the bottom. We shall
have to pull it down!”
“That’s just what we’re going to do,” said Harry “to-night, after
every one’s asleep.”