“I did not buy it, Sir; and, as to the language, I could understand that well enough, but I could not read the letters; and Timothy himself bungled at the spelling.” Willoughton inquired where this book was met with; and whether he could have a sight of it? “Why, Sir, it was dug out of the ground, where an old chapel once stood, belonging to the Priory hard by.” “O! I remember,” said Willoughton; “there was formerly a monastery of Black Canons at Kenilworth, founded by Geoffry de Clinton, lord chamberlain to the first King Henry, and the founder of this same castle too: but go on.” “The place is used for a burial-ground still,” resumed the old villager; “and it happened, that as Guy, our sexton, was one day going to dig a grave there, he lighted upon a coffin, or the chest, or whatever it was, that held a many things besides this strange book.” “Indeed!” said Willoughton, eagerly; “let us hear a little about this.” “We shall not get to Warwick to-night,” said Mr. Simpson, gravely. “Why, Sir, it was one day last autumn,—no, I believe it was as late as November; I remember it had rained hard all morning; but whether it was October or November, I cannot be sure.” “That, I should suppose, does not much signify,” said Mr. Simpson. “Come, now,” said Willoughton, “do let him be as circumstantial as he pleases.” “Willingly, willingly, only remember, we are not to sleep at Kenilworth.” “Well, Sir, I cannot be sure exactly of the time, only it had been a dismal day; but the rain was over, when old Guy came running to me in as great a fright as ever I saw a man, and said he had found something in the ground, he could not tell what, but he never felt any thing so heavy in his life; he could not move it, and desired I would go and help him to raise it; and he stared, as if he was out of his wits. When I heard it was so heavy, I thought we might as well have my son to help us, for he was a stout lad. Guy did not much like this, I saw, for he was thinking he should find a treasure, and Guy was always a close one, and for getting as much as he could; it was only two years before he got his money raised for tolling; and there is not one in the parish has liked him since. However, I got my son to go with me, and we set to work, without saying a word to any one; and it was so near dark that nobody was likely to see us in that lonely place.” “Well! but if it had been treasure, it would have belonged to the Lord of the Manor,” said Mr. Simpson.