Chapter XIV: 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.”