"To the memory of Algernon, Baron Newark, of Newark Castle and Ale Manor, Knight, who died on the second day of July, 1690, this monument is erected, as a testimony of love and veneration, by his widow and his son." "That was the day after the battle of the Boyne," observed Smeaton. The old sexton nodded his head significantly. "Ay, sir, so it was. I recollect it well; and when they brought the body home from Ireland, these old hands dug the grave for as noble a lord and as good a man as ever lived. But it was all done very quietly, for people were in great fear of what might happen next; and the monument was not erected till two years after." Smeaton laid his hand upon it, saying-- "It is fine in its simplicity. What became of the son who is mentioned here?" "I don't know, sir," answered the man, shortly, and then walked on towards another part of the church, mumbling his jaws together, as if he were muttering something to himself. Emmeline looked up in Smeaton's face with an inquiring glance; but his only comment was by taking her hand and leading her away. He might press it gently as he did so; but he said nothing till they rejoined the old man, when he inquired, in a careless tone-- "Are there not vaults, or a crypt, to this church? From the height of the pavement, I should think so." "Oh, yes," replied Emmeline, answering for the sexton. "There is a beautiful crypt." "Ay, but I have not got the key, my lady," said the old man. "Why, it is in the door, Mattocks," rejoined Emmeline. "I saw it as we passed." The old sexton laughed aloud. "That's true, my lady," he said; "but I've got a bird in there, and that's the truth. So that I would rather not open the door if I can help it. Not that I think you would tell, or this gentleman either; for it could do you no good, and might do the poor fellow some harm." "Oh, be assured we will not tell anything," replied Smeaton. "But we must see the crypt, my good man. To me it is one of the most interesting parts of a church." "Well, sir, must is must," answered the sexton, "and I cannot stop you, if you like to go. Only mind, you've promised not to tell about seeing any one there." "We'll be as secret as a father confessor," answered Smeaton, gaily; "but first, I should like to look at your register-books. Cannot we see the inside of the vestry?" The old man gazed earnestly in his face for an instant, and then replied, coldly and repulsively-- "You can see the inside of the vestry, sir, if you like; but the books are not there. They are always kept by the parson, under lock and key." "Are they at his house?" asked Smeaton. "I think not," replied the old man; "but all I know is, that they are not at the church. If you want any certificates out, you must ask the parson." "Well, let us down to the crypt, then," replied Smeaton. "Can we see down there, think you?" "Your eyes are younger than mine, and _I_ can," answered the sexton, gruffly; and he proceeded to open the door.