"But if he does not?" said Lady Eleanor.

"Why, if the doctor can't deal with it, the best thing we can do will be to find the woman; and if she has bound the boy by force of her will to be silent, to make her release him again. Where does she live?"

"No one knows," said Lady Eleanor, and repeated what Mrs. Fry had told her.

"I never remember any one being pixy-led but that cider was at the bottom of it," said Colonel George. "As to the dragon, I expect that Jimmy Beer chanced upon an old stag which looked very big and terrible in the mist, and that the print of his cloven hoof was the mark of his slot in the ground. The moor is wide, but I cannot think it will be very difficult to find this woman."

"I should be greatly relieved if we could, if only to prevent her from playing such tricks in future," said Lady Eleanor.

"Then I will make it my business to find her," said Colonel George, "if my father approves; and you need trouble yourself no more about the matter, but leave it to me."

Old Lord Fitzdenys quite approved, and stumped off by himself to look at a shrub which he could never induce to grow at his own place. Then the children came running up to show their treasures, and Lady Eleanor looked into Colonel George's face with eyes full of grat.i.tude, and said "How good of you! You never forget them, and you are rather inclined to spoil them. You did when you came back from the Peninsula, and again after Waterloo, and now after all these years you are just the same."

"Yes," he said quietly, "I am just the same. Why should I be changed?"

He stopped rather abruptly; and Lady Eleanor began a new subject by saying that she wanted to hear all about India. So the two walked about the garden talking, and seemed to have plenty to say. Indeed they were still talking hard, and did not seem to want to be interrupted, when old Lord Fitzdenys came back to say that it was time for him to return. The old gentleman took his leave with the same stately courtesy; but both the children put up their cheeks to be kissed by Colonel George, who promised to come back to them soon. Then seeing Mrs. Fry waiting outside they spoke a few words to her and took a look at Tommy, whose mouth was smeared with brown sugar from Lady Eleanor's still-room. The Corporal held open the gate with his best salute, and they cantered down over the park, Colonel George turning in his saddle to look back and wave his hand before they finally disappeared from sight.

"It is pleasant to see Colonel Fitzdenys again," said Lady Eleanor to the Corporal, as he held the door for her.

"It's a treat to look upon his face, my Lady," said the Corporal, "a n.o.ble gentleman like that who never forgets the humblest of his friends. I've always said that if I were not in your Ladyship's service there is no one that I would serve so willingly as he. 'Tis no wonder that his honour the Captain and he were friends, for there wasn't two such gentlemen in the army."

So when the children rejoined the Corporal they heard nothing but the praises of Colonel Fitzdenys, of his bravery, his gentleness, and his excellence as an officer; all of which they pa.s.sed on in the evening to Lady Eleanor, who seemed quite content to hear it.

CHAPTER V

Notwithstanding Colonel George's hopes, Tommy Fry remained dumb during the next day, and the next, and the next; and Lady Eleanor became seriously alarmed. She sent for the apothecary from the little neighbouring town, by Colonel George's advice, and he duly arrived in his yellow gig; but he frankly confessed that he could do nothing. So he wisely went away, as Mrs. Fry indignantly put it, without leaving so much as a drench behind him, or taking so much as a drop of blood from the boy, whereas every one knew (or at any rate the villagers did) that the evil spirit, which no doubt possessed poor Tommy, might have left him if a convenient outlet had been made with a lancet, or if the boy had swallowed a few doses of the nastiest possible medicine such as evil spirits find it impossible to live with.

The doctor having failed, a local preacher was called in, who with the a.s.sistance of certain of his flock screamed and sang and raved over Tommy for several hours, making such a noise as set Lady Eleanor's peac.o.c.ks screaming till they could scream no more. The boy was at first rather terrified, but as his helpers became more vehement and their antics more grotesque, he lost his fright and was intensely amused. Finally the whole congregation rose and, headed by the preacher, rushed out of the house with wild cries that the evil spirit had left Tommy and that they would hunt it out of the village. None the less the boy remained dumb; so that the evil spirit, if ever it had thought of going, had certainly changed its mind very quickly.

Both doctor and preacher having failed, Mrs. Fry was at her wits' end; but her neighbours pointed out that witchcraft could be met only by witchcraft; and a remark made by her nearest neighbour, Mrs. Mugford, soon brought her round to their mind. "'Tisn't witchcraft," said Mrs.

Mugford very loudly in Mrs. Fry's hearing, "'tis a jidgment on evil tongues, and the sins of parents that's visited on the children. The mother goeth back and vor biting and slandering, and the mouth of the innocent child is stopped." Mrs. Fry wept with rage as she heard the words, for she had no answer ready. But she was more than ever convinced from that moment that it was witchcraft which had wrought the mischief in poor Tommy, and that only further witchcraft could undo it.

Despite the sad end of her pig, owing to the malignant influence of the white witch of Gratton, she now lamented the death of the old man and wished that he were back, if only for one day, that she might consult him and show her contempt for Mrs. Mugford. As things were, she was fain to fall back on her neighbours to learn where some wizard or wise women of equal power could be discovered; and it was with dismay that she found that not one of any repute was to hand nearer than the borders of Dartmoor, fifty miles away. In vain she questioned hawkers, waggoners, and the guards of the coaches, any pa.s.sing folks in fact that had seen the world; not one could enlighten her.

The neighbours, however, were ready enough with suggestions of their own, of which the commonest was that Tommy's tongue should be split with a silver sixpence. It is possible that some attempt might have been made to perform this operation, for abundance of sixpences were offered for the purpose; and there was a crooked one of the time of Queen Anne from which great things were expected, for it was said to have been given by the Queen herself when, touching children for the King's Evil. Unfortunately, however, not one of these designs escaped the keen ears of Mrs. Mugford, who at once communicated them to the Corporal.

"'Tis not that I hold with them as slanders their neighbours, Mr.

Brimacott," she said, "nor that I bear no malice against them that can't let a poor boy go to sea to sarve the King without a-saying that his mother drave mun from home. I could tell of many in this parish as isn't no better than they should be, and yet takes her Ladyship's kindness and charity as if no one hadn't no right to it but themselves.

I could tell of such, but I won't, not I. But I'm not going to stand by and see an innocent boy's tongue cut out of his mouth; though I wouldn't say, Mr. Brimacott, but what there's tongues in the parish that would be the better for cutting."

It was in this appalling form that the projected operation with the sixpence made its way through the Corporal to Lady Eleanor, who was horrified. She at once sent for both Mrs. Mugford and Mrs. Fry to get at the truth of the story, and gave them such a scolding for their folly and their quarrelsomeness that they departed weeping hand in hand, in deep sympathy with each other as two thoroughly ill-used women. They were a little frightened too, for though they had long known Lady Eleanor as the gentlest and kindest of creatures, they now found out that her beautiful face could be stern, and her voice sharp and severe in rebuke; but for all their crying they knew in their hearts that they liked her all the better for it.

So all attempts to heal Tommy by magic were stopped; and meanwhile Colonel George scoured the moor in all directions without the least success in finding out anything about the strange woman and her idiot son. He had ridden first to Cossacombe, which was twenty miles away on the other side of the moor, and had heard that the woman had been seen there occasionally, but the idiot never; in fact no one seemed to know anything about him. He learned also that she had brought down some honey for sale on the day following her appearance at Ashacombe, and had bought a sack of oatmeal at the mill, which she had taken away on a scarecrow of an Exmoor pony. There were of course sundry stories of her, but these were dark and uncertain, and of no value for tracing her to her dwelling place. Then Colonel George took long rides over the moor, crossing it this way and that from end to end, in the hope of finding what he sought; for he had made up his mind that this strange couple were lodged somewhere in the waste of bog and heather. But he failed to find the least trace of them; and indeed the moor is wide now and was far wider and wilder and more desolate in those days, before there was a fence or a ditch to be found in the whole of it. Then stag-hunting began, and Colonel George felt confident that with so many people galloping over the moorland in all directions he must certainly learn something; but here again he was disappointed. Still he went on trying day after day, and very often came home by Ashacombe, when he did not fail to call at Bracefort Hall, where everybody was glad to see him, whatever the failure of his efforts.

Thus a whole month pa.s.sed away without any change in Tommy Fry or any sign that might give hope of discovering the strange woman. Lady Eleanor then became very unhappy indeed, and blamed herself for letting her go without further inquiry.

Colonel George still insisted that all would soon right itself, for he was pained to see how much Lady Eleanor took the matter to heart, but in truth he too was at his wits' end. And indeed those two distressed themselves over Tommy Fry far more than anybody else; for Mrs. Fry gained great importance from her boy's misfortune. Folks from neighbouring villages came to see for themselves if the story that they had heard was true; and from time to time some gentleman pa.s.sing to or from the hunting-field would drop in, when Tommy was produced and proved to be speechless, while Mrs. Fry told the tale with every harrowing detail. The great Lord Fitzdenys himself came once, and the doctor regained favour in Mrs. Fry's eyes by bringing another doctor to see what he called "this interesting case;" and as none of the gentlemen ever went away without giving a few pence to the boy and a few shillings to his mother, the family of Fry gained both dignity and profit. Nor were the Frys at first the only gainers, for, Tommy being of a generous nature, there was an uncommon demand for Sally Dart's toffee, until Mrs. Fry, perceiving how quickly his money disappeared, thought it prudent to take care of it for him.

Then suddenly one day there came an event which revived all the hopes of Colonel George and Lady Eleanor. For one beautiful evening while d.i.c.k and Elsie were wandering with the Corporal round the fence of the park to pick blackberries, they heard a strange whistling in the wood beyond. At first they thought that it was a bird, but the Corporal said that he had never heard such a bird in his life, though the sound seemed to pa.s.s so swiftly from place to place that it was difficult to think what it might be. They followed the sound along the fence for a little way, and then suddenly the Corporal shaded his eyes with his hand for a moment, and telling the children to wait till he came back, ran away down the fence as fast as his lame leg would carry him, turned into the wood by a hunting-gate and disappeared. The children wondered for a time what could have happened, but discovering some very fine ripe blackberries soon turned to picking and tasting them again, when suddenly they heard the whistling close to them, and again still closer; and presently there was a little rustle through the bushes, and there stood the idiot before them, still whistling. They were at first a little frightened, but too much astonished to cry out; and the ragged creature (for he had just the same appearance as when they had first seen him) grinned at them so kindly that they could not help smiling back. He looked round him nervously for a moment and then holding up his finger as if to bid them keep silence, he scrambled down from the fence to them, and produced a rudely made cage of hazel-wands from under his coat. This he opened, and took from it a bullfinch, which perched on his finger without attempting to fly away. Then he whistled a few notes and the bird began to pipe a little tune, though the man was obliged to remind him of his note now and again. Then he whistled few more notes and the bird piped another tune or part of one, after which he lifted the bird to his face and the little creature laid its beak against his lips. He then listened nervously for a few seconds, shut he bird up in the cage again, put the cage into little Elsie's hand, nodding and smiling all the time, jumped over the fence into the wood and was gone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The bird began to pipe a little tune.]

The Corporal came back a few minutes later, very hot, out of breath, and very nearly out of temper. He had caught sight of some one in the wood, he said, a poacher or some one who had no business there, and made sure to have caught him or at any rate to have found out who he was. But when he heard the children's story he opened his eyes wide and said that they had better go home at once; and that very same evening he rode over to Fitzdenys Court with a letter from Lady Eleanor to Colonel George. But the children were far too much taken up by the bullfinch to think of anything else, for the bird took courage to pipe a little to d.i.c.k's whistling, and then they discovered that one of his tunes was "The British Grenadiers."

Colonel George duly came over next morning and was not a little astonished to hear what had happened, but could not explain it in the least. "The children will solve this mystery before I shall, you will see," he said to Lady Eleanor, laughing, "and I may as well give up the attempt."

"But do you not think that this proves these two people to be harmless and innocent?" asked Lady Eleanor.

"You judged them to be so from the first," he answered, "and that is sufficient for me."

Lady Eleanor hesitated for a moment, and then said that he must come and see the bullfinch. So Elsie produced the bird with great pride, and Colonel George recognised one tune as "The British Grenadiers" and the other as part of "Lillibulero," the famous marching song which was so popular with King William's soldiers. "Strange," he said, "that both tunes should be marching tunes. What can it mean?"

But before they had done with the bullfinch, a frightened woman came hurrying up with the news that old Sally Dart was taken bad. She had got up as usual and begun to lay the fire, but the neighbours seeing no more of her had entered the cottage and found her lying on the floor, speechless, with one side of her face pulled down. Lady Eleanor at once sent for the doctor, and walked down with Colonel George to see what she could do; but as they came back they found that there was fresh excitement in another quarter. The village preacher's cow had also been taken bad; her calf was dead already, and it was doubtful if the cow could be saved. Finally, Mrs. Mugford was seen weeping over the ghastly heads of six or eight fowls which lay in a heap before her door. The said fowls, so Colonel George ascertained from her, had strayed away in the previous night, which she had never known them do before, and the keeper had found the heads scattered about the wood not far from an earth where an old vixen was known to have brought up a litter of cubs. What could have possessed the fowls Mrs. Mugford couldn't say, for her old stag (and she selected the head of a venerable c.o.c.k from the heap as she spoke, to give point to her remark) was so sensible as a Christian almost.

"What a day of misfortunes!" said Lady Eleanor, as they left the disconsolate woman.

"Yes, indeed," said Colonel George, "I only hope that they may end here. Listen!" And as he spoke the voice of Mrs. Fry rose high from the garden above.

"Yes," she said, "the mazed man was up to the park yesterday. The young gentleman and the little lady seed mun; and the witch wasn't far away, you may depend. She's a-witched mun all; that's what it is; and now maybe," she added with a triumphant glance at the weeping Mrs.

Mugford, "there's some as won't be so sartain as they was as to the doings of witches."

Lady Eleanor gave a little laugh, but turned suddenly grave, and asked Colonel George anxiously, "Do you think that they really believe it?"

"There is no doubt that they believe it," he said quietly. "It is best to face facts."

"But if it should lead to trouble?" said Lady Eleanor.

"Wait till the trouble comes," he said, "and then send for me. You may be sure that I shall come."

CHAPTER VI

The day of misfortunes brought about very much such results as Colonel George had foreseen. Old Sally Dart, it is true, recovered, though she was sadly shaken; and she declared, as soon as she could speak, that she was not going yet awhile, not at any rate till she had heard the full story of her Jan's death. But on the other hand the preacher's cow did die, and as the preacher himself was but a small farmer of eight or ten acres of land, the loss to him was very serious. Mrs.

Mugford, too, was thoroughly converted to belief in witchcraft by the loss of her fowls; though since Tommy Fry's noise no longer disturbed her, and her fowls were no longer numerous enough to make havoc of Mrs.

Fry's garden, she and Mrs. Fry lived for the present in comparative peace. Hoping therefore to do something to destroy the belief in witches and to soften the harsh feeling against them, Lady Eleanor wrote to the parson to speak on the subject in next Sunday's sermon.

Her hopes, however, were not very great. There was no parson living in the village, the parish being so small that it was joined to another and served by an old, old man, who wore his hair in powder and droned through one service only on Sundays in the little dark church at Ashacombe. The congregation was always small, and perhaps the three most enthusiastic members were d.i.c.k, Elsie, and the Corporal. For the Corporal had inherited a violoncello, or as it was always called in the village, a ba.s.s viol, from his father, and played it in the little gallery along with the two violins, flageolet and ba.s.soon that formed the rest of the band. The notes that he could play were few, though sufficient for the humble needs of the church, but the children had no doubt that he was the finest performer in the world, and watched anxiously for the minute when he should begin sawing away at the strings, and the choir should break (very much through their noses) into the anthem, "I will arise, I will arise and goo tu my va-ther,"

with which the service always began.

The old parson, though he did attempt to fulfil Lady Eleanor's wishes in his sermon, only succeeded in being duller and longer than usual, and neither d.i.c.k nor Elsie could understand what he was talking about.

Moreover they had been much distracted by a printed handbill which they had seen on the church door, headed in large letters by the word "Deserted," with the description of a deserter named Henry Bale from the Royal Marines, set forth in the usual terms--"Height five feet four inches, fair hair, grey eyes; when last seen was dressed in his regimentals," and so on. This had set d.i.c.k thinking very seriously, for the Corporal had always told him that no man was so bad as he that deserted his colours and ran away from the King's service; and he had hardly believed that such people could exist. And the bill had set other people thinking too, for a reward of two guineas was offered for this deserter, which made sundry poor mouths water; so that altogether the parson's long sermon was not much listened to, many heads being occupied with an attempt to remember some strange man five feet four inches in height, with fair hair and grey eyes, and dressed in regimentals.

When service was over, the Corporal solemnly packed up his ba.s.s viol in a bag of green baize, and was about to carry it off, when he was stopped by the village preacher, who begged the loan of it for the evening. But the Corporal, who as a soldier and Lady Eleanor's servant was a staunch supporter of Church and King, did not like the preacher, who was always railing against all authority and driving silly maids into hysterics with his ravings; so he answered him very civilly (for he never quarrelled with any one) that he was afraid he could not. The preacher, however, would not take no for an answer, and tried to wheedle the Corporal, who at last told him very decidedly that his father had played that viol in the church at Fitzdenys for forty years, and he himself at Ashacombe for near seven years more, and that he would be hanged if it should ever enter a chapel so long as he was alive. With which words he drew himself up to his full height and stalked away.

The preacher was not a little annoyed, for he wanted the viol for his own service at the chapel, where he was going to preach directly contrary to the old parson. Moreover at the close of his service there was to be a collection to make good to him the loss of his cow, so that it was important to him that all should go off as well as possible.