Mace's eyes brightened with satisfaction, and Gil, as he stood there alone, felt recompensed for much of the past, as it seemed to him that now he was in trouble she was turning to him.

"Sir Thomas Beckley must know this," cried the founder. "The suspicion is that Abel Churr has been foully dealt with, and that you, Gilbert Carr, are to blame."

"And I say that whoever charges me with hurt to Abel Churr lies," cried Gil, hotly. "The scoundrel had a secret of mine in his keeping, and I did threaten him, but I let him go when I had caught him robbing me, with such a warning that I felt he would never come again."

There was truth in his bearing, but somehow there was only one present who believed him, as he stood there alone, while the founder said coldly, "Gilbert Carr, there's a dark suspicion hanging over thee. It may be that the deed was not done by thee, but by orders to thy men; but, anyway, it behoves thee to clear thyself by finding Abel Churr.

Till you can do that, come upon my premises no more. Sir Mark, we are a rough people here, and set at naught some of the laws, but we hold a man's life in good esteem. I shall see Sir Thomas, our justice, in the morning, and no stone will be left unturned to find this wretched man."

"Gilbert Carr," said Master Peasegood, advancing; "speak out once more-- Do you know aught of this wretched man?"

"I have said all I know, Master Peasegood," replied Gil, quietly. "I can say no more."

"We must wait, Master Cobbe," said the parson. "Seven days are but a short time. He will come back perhaps ere long."

"I hope he will," said the founder, firmly. "Gilbert Carr, this is my land, and no place for thee."

Gil looked at him angrily, and then at Mace, whose glance disarmed him once again.

"As you will, Master Cobbe," he said. "Some day perhaps you may regret this harshness to so old a friend. Mace, as I am to be dismissed, good-bye till we meet again--in better times."

He advanced and held out his hand, but Sir Mark, who was near her, interposed.

"Stand back, sir," he said; "no man with such a suspicion resting upon him shall touch Mistress Cobbe's hand."

Gil seized him by the shoulder, and with one swing hurled him aside.

"Your hand, Mace Cobbe," he said, holding out his own, in which she laid hers for a few moments, before hurrying to her father's side.

A dead silence had fallen on the group, and as Gil turned to go he felt that appearances were sadly against him, though it would be vain to say more then. Striding across the foundry he made for the open door, angry even unto passion, but helpless under the pressure of opinion. He was not prepared for the fresh reverse that he encountered, as, after turning to exchange a fierce glance with Sir Mark, which said plainly enough, "We shall meet again," he was half startled by finding his way barred by Mother Goodhugh, who was standing in the doorway, full in the red light cast by the furnace.

He drew back as the old woman moved her stick and stepped into the building.

"Is he to be screened?" she cried aloud. "I say, is he to be screened?

Your friend, Master Cobbe--the friend of your child--the man you mean to make your son. I say, is he to be screened?"

"Hold thy prate," cried the founder, angrily. "Mother Goodhugh, I am in no humour to listen to thee now."

"Nay, but thou shalt listen. I say is he to be screened? Gil Carr,"

she cried, turning upon him sharply, "where is Abel Churr?"

"Stand aside, woman," cried Gil. "I know not."

"But you do know," cried Mother Goodhugh. "He was my only friend, and I will have all brought to light. He went to follow you in the forest.

You met him--speak, did you not meet him?"

"I did," said Gil sharply. "And you murdered him," cried the old woman.

"Ha, ha, ha! As I said--as I said; more care for the house of Cobbe.

The curses fall thick and fast. As I said, as I said. Yes, get you gone, murderer, and you, good people, have the forest searched for the remains of his victim. He must be found--he must be found."

Gil turned upon her angrily, but he did not speak. He strode from the building, out into the summer night, hot and angry; and as he went along the lane he could hear the old woman's shrillest tone as she shouted after him; and even the hurrying water in the race towards the wheel seemed to repeat the word "Murderer," in his ears.

Volume 1, Chapter XVIII.

HOW A CASEMENT WAS OPENED.

In the days which followed there was a diligent search for Abel Churr, in which Gilbert Carr's men joined hands with those of the founder, for reasons best known to Gil; and every likely place in the forest was searched save the ravine leading to the cave entry, and that was gone over by Gil's men alone. At times there might be one or two who felt disposed to give Gil the credit of having made away with a man who had been a spy upon his actions, but very little was said on the matter, the common people, as a body, liking the captain and his men, whose return from a voyage was heartily welcomed, even though at times they were rather more than free.

Those who spoke out and sided with Mother Goodhugh received hints to keep their tongues more quiet, the hints being traceable to Wat Kilby; but there was but little need to speak. Gil was too great a favourite; and when there was some talk (on the part of Sir Thomas Beckley) of the captain being arrested and inquisitions made, Sir Thomas received so broad a hint from his daughter not to interfere with Gil, and also from the captain's followers, to let matters rest, that he hastily obeyed.

"I'm not going to blame thee, skipper," said Wat Kilby, one day when the heat of the search was over; "but wouldn't it have been better to have shut him up for a bit till we started, and then have taken him away?"

The captain turned sharply round upon him.

"Look here, Wat," he said; "do you believe that I have murdered Abel Churr?"

"Lord, no, lad, not murdered; that be too terrifying a word. Pooked him--executed him for a spy--pooked him; and quite right too."

"Once for all," cried the captain, "let it be fully understood by you, and you can tell the men, that I caught Abel Churr in the store, and, after frightening him, I let him go, making him swear that he would never approach the place or divulge its position to a soul."

"Do you want me to tell the lads that?" said Wat.

"Yes, of course."

"Nay, then I'm a mutineer. I'm not going to help 'em to such words as that."

"Why not?"

"Why not, skipper? Because it would lower you in the eyes of every man of the crew. What! after the oath we swore, and after the way the boys have kept it, for you, our captain, to go and let loose a varmin who had broken in and was robbing you, perhaps hunting out the savings and trade every man has got stored up here? Nay, captain, it would be degrading you in the eyes of all."

"What would you have done, then?"

"What would I have done?" said Wat. "Why, same as you did--killed him like the varmin he was, and buried him in the mixen or under the stones."

"You really believe, then, that I killed this man in cold blood?"

"Why, of course, skipper; you couldn't do otherwise. As to a man and cold blood! bah! he was a rat, and he was caught. Do you know how the lads searched the little valley?"

"No."

"Crept through the wood, pooked the grass aside, and sat down and smoked," said Wat with a chuckle.

"Then they did not properly search it?"

"Of course not," cried Wat, gruffly. "You don't suppose they wanted to find that girt fox, do you?"

"Wat," cried the captain angrily, "you disobeyed my orders. That place shall be searched, and that at once."

"What--and try to warm up the scent again, captain? Nay, he's sattled, let sleeping dogs lie. The world's all the better for there being no Abel Churr; and the adders and things can have a chance of marrying and having families without being pulled out of their holes by the tail."