The Man with a Shadow

“Well, yes, Moredock. We must give notice about the scoundrels, I suppose, or they may come again.”

“Mornin’, then, sir, and my service to you, Miss Mary, and thankye kindly, my dear,” said the old man, hobbling off without a word or look at Leo; and, oddly enough, as he reached the road he wiped a tear from each of his watery eyes.

“And so she is,” he muttered, “a real angel. My Dally never said, ‘Have a cup o’ tea, gran’fa; you’re hot and tired.’ Ah! gels is made different, but my Dally’s worth two o’ that tother one.”

“Police, eh?” he muttered, as he went on. “I was ’bliged to take it away twissened up into a rag, and if it had been washed somebody would have known. Ah, well, I know what to do wi’ that.”

So the old man went straight home, and fastened the door, before taking the soiled and crumpled surplice from his oak chest; and then carefully picking it to pieces and rolling it up.

“My Dally shall wash that, first time she comes, and nobody’ll know it’s a surplus now. She might ha’ asked her old gran’fa to have a cup o’ tea.”

Volume Two – Chapter Eighteen.

At Candlish Hall

“My Dally” had been otherwise employed, for a messenger had come over from the Hall to see the curate; and at the time her grandfather was departing, Dally was cross-examining the good-tempered, loutish youth respecting his master, and getting out of him all she could glean.

“Job is having it this morning,” said Salis, for he heard a familiar step in the passage, as soon as the sexton had gone. “What now, Dally? No more bad news?”

“Bad news, sir?” said the girl, speaking to her master, and gazing at Leo, who did not look up. “I don’t think so, sir. It’s the young man from Candlish Hall, sir, to see you partikler.”

“I knew it,” cried Salis to Mary, as Leo bent lower. “Candlish has sent word that he cannot come. Now, how the de – ”

“Hartley!”

“Well, it’s enough to make a saint swear. How can a man carry on his parish work like this? I wish to goodness May had it to do himself. Show him in, Dally.”

The girl departed, and returned directly with the servant from the Hall, who looked stealthily at Salis, and then from Leo to Mary and back.

“Can I speak to you alone, sir?” he said.

“Yes, yes, my man, certainly. Is it anything serious?”

“Yes, sir – very, sir. I’ve come – ”

“Here, this way, to my study, my man,” said Salis, rising.

“Stop!”

Salis had reached the door – his hand was on the knob, and he was about to turn it; but the sharp, commanding voice made him turn in astonishment, to see Leo standing erect, with her head thrown back, her eyes flashing, and her hand resting upon the book – closed now – and one finger shut in to mark the place.

“Leo!”

“Yes; I said ‘stop.’ We are not children,” she cried, in an imperative voice. “Let the man speak here.”

“It was about Sir Thomas, ma’am – my master,” faltered the man, before Salis had recovered from his astonishment. “An accident.”

“An accident?” cried Leo, as Salis stepped to her side, and laid his hand upon her arm; but she shrank away. “Well, sir, why do you not speak?”

“Am I to speak, sir?” faltered the man.

“Yes; speak out,” said Salis quietly.

“My master did not come home last night, sir – I mean this morning. He often goes out of a night, sir, very late; but he always comes in at daybreak. I’ve seen him dozens of times.”

“Yes; go on,” said Leo harshly.

“He didn’t come back, miss – ma’am; and I was thinking about it when I went to the stables and took his mare and the pad-horse out for exercise.”

“Speak more quickly, man,” said Leo imperiously.

“Yes, ma’am. We’d got down nearly to the ford, when the mare – master’s mare, ma’am – shied at something, and nearly threw me.”

“The mare shied?” said Leo, with her eyes dilating.

“Yes, ma’am; and I saw it was at master lying there by the side of the road.”

“Dead?”

“No, ma’am, but very bad. His head was – ”

“Hush!” said Salis, interrupting sternly. “No particulars, my man; only answer me this – was it a fall?”

“Oh, no, sir! some one had been beating him about the head with a stick, I should say.”

“Had he been robbed?”

“Oh, no, sir! His watch and chain and pin were all right.”

“Was he insensible?” continued Salis.

“Yes, sir; quite, sir; and seemed to have been staggering about the road, trying to get home, for there was bl – ”

“Hush, man! Only answer my questions,” cried Salis hastily. “You got him home?”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, who could not keep his eyes off Leo, who was gazing at him wildly – in a way which taught her brother that the old love for Tom Candlish was far from dead.

“And then – ”

“And then, sir, as soon as we’d got him on his bed, I galloped off for Dr North, sir.”

“Yes.”

“But he’s ill, sir, and the housekeeper said he couldn’t come to the Hall.”

“Well?”

“I hardly knew what to do, then, sir; but as I was wondering what was best, Joe Chegg come up, sir – he used to be a groom, you know – and I jumped off the mare, and made him get up and go off to King’s Hampton to fetch Dr Benson, while I came on to you.”