"
"Why, sir, ya may think me bold, but I do say this. If so be ya gets
notions in yer head--notions o' goin' out along an' seein' the world an'
all, go up an' axe squire about it. Squire he done have a wise head;
he'll advise ya for the best; an' sure I bin he'd warn ya not to have no
dealin's win that Diggle, as he do call hissen."
"Why, does the squire know him, then?"
"'Tis my belief squire do know everything an' everybody. Diggle he med
not know, to be sure, but if so be ya say 'tis a lean man, wi' sharp
nose, an' black eyes like live coals, an' a smilin' mouth--why, squire
knows them sort, he done, and wouldna trust him not a ell. But maybe ya'd
better go on, sir: my old shanks be slow fur one so young an' nimble."
"No hurry, Dickon. Lucky the squire was used to London hours in his
youth, or we'd find him abed. See, there's a light in the Hall; 'tis in
the strong room next to the library; Sir Willoughby is reckoning up his
rents maybe, though 'tis late for that."
"Ay, ya knows the Hall, true. Theer be a terrible deal o gowd an' silver
up in that room, fur sure, more 'n a aged man like me could tell in a
week."
"The light is moving; it seems Sir Willoughby is finishing up for the
night. I hope we shall not be too late."
But at this moment a winding of the path brought another face of the Hall
into view.
"Why, Dickon," exclaimed Desmond, "there's another light; 'tis the
squire's own room. He cannot be in two places at once; 'tis odd at this
time of night.
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