"Then there is an end of it," said Jeremiah, "and it shall be as you say. I must get back to London to-night so that I may be here in time to-morrow."
"Be sure you are in time, Jeremiah!"
"I will be sure!" said Jeremiah, and left the room.
The moment he closed the door behind him he felt his mother's hand clasp his. She led him down the stairs, and Jeremiah, hearing the sound of his own footsteps, did not wonder that he did not hear hers. It would have been difficult, she trod so softly, and she had taken off her boots. She accompanied him like a spirit: not the only one which walked beside and before him. By his blood! By his life! Miser Farebrother's words. Well, it might come to that. What other road of escape was left open?
In the kitchen below, Mrs. Pamflett put her forefinger to her lips.
"Speak low, Jeremiah. I listened outside, and heard all. He has the heart of a devil! That is his gratitude for faithful service. His life has been in my hands for years past. I could have sent him to his grave and no one the wiser. I am your cat-mother, am I? And he will fling us into the gutter, and laugh at us? He and his daughter are a pair. He has had the best years of our lives, and he spits in our faces. Have you told me the whole truth, Jeremiah? About the books and the safe is there anything against you there? Can he get you into further trouble?"
"Mother," said Jeremiah, "if he calls in an accountant, as he threatens to do, I am lost. There is no hope of escape for me. If I don't get back that bracelet, I am lost. And he has money, too, here, hidden away, and not a soul knows it but him and ourselves."
"Not a soul, Jeremiah."
"No one comes to the house but us?"
"Not a person has been here for a month past."
"But attend to me, mother there comes here to-night, late, a man to see Miser Farebrother. It might be!"
"It might be," his mother echoed, gazing at her son with a fierce expectancy in her eyes.
"This man has been here frequently before; he has been in the habit of coming once in every six or seven weeks, and Miser Farebrother expects and receives him. They talk in secret in Miser Farebrother's room, with the door locked. You are never admitted. You are sent to bed, and sometimes you have awoke in the middle of the night, and have heard sounds in the miser's room, which proved that the man was still there. You never knew at what hour he went away, but it must have been nearly always not earlier than two or three in the morning. It might be!"
"It might be."
"That he came upon business is a reasonable construction, and that this business was of a nature which would not bear the light is another reasonable construction. Once, passing the miser's room on the way to your own, you heard them quarrelling and you heard the miser say, 'I have but to lift my finger, and I could send you back to the hulks! I will give you twenty pounds for the bonds, and no more.' A reasonable story, mother?"
"Perfectly reasonable, Jeremiah. Living here in seclusion as he has done for so many years, with no servant but me, who is to dispute it? That is not the end, Jeremiah."
"That is not the end. To-night, late, the man comes again, and is admitted. You go to bed as usual, and leave them together as usual. To-morrow morning you get up, and wait for Miser Farebrother to ring his bell for breakfast. He does not ring it, mother," and Jeremiah put his lips close to her ear. "Can you guess the reason why he does not ring his bell?"
"I can guess the reason, Jeremiah," she replied, in a cold, malignant voice. "After to-morrow he will never raise his hand again!"
"And I am safe!" said Jeremiah.
"And you are safe, my dear, dear lad; and he is punished as he deserves to be."
"He has been in the grounds at night very often these last few weeks, mother?"
"Very often, Jeremiah."
"Whether he dies in the house or out of the house, the story holds good."
"The story holds good," she echoed.
"You can describe the man's dress and appearance: there is nothing like being exact in these matters: there are peculiarities about
him by which you will be able to recognise him when he is arrested."
"Leave all that to me, Jeremiah. I will show you what I am capable of. And you where will you be in the morning?"
"In the office in London, as usual, having possessed myself of the keys which he tricked out of me upstairs. Give me a drink of brandy ah! that puts life into one! And some bread and meat no, I cannot eat."
"You must, Jeremiah; you must! It will give you strength. That's right. Force yourself to eat. Don't drink much. Keep cool for what is to come! Now go and keep out of sight. You must not be seen in the village. The monster upstairs never wanders near the beeches; you will be safe there. I will come to you in an hour or two."
Stealthily, warily, Jeremiah crept from the house, and proceeded in the direction indicated by his mother. The sun was setting, and blood was in the sky. It shone upon the rising ground and upon the topmost branches of the trees. His eyes did not rest upon the glories of a lovely sunset, but upon blotches and streaks of blood. Once, standing where he could not himself be seen, he turned to the house, and watched the blood-red stains in the windows. Behind the crimson panes lurid shadows moved; the rooms were alive with murderous shapes and forms engaged in fierce conflict. Above him and all around him lurked the spirit of murder!