"And of Humphrey Salkeld, only son of the above Richard Salkeld and his wife Barbara, who was drowned at Scarborough, October, 1578, to the great grief and sorrow of his uncle, Thurstan Salkeld, Knight." * * * * * "So I am dead and yet alive," I said, and laughed gayly at the notion. "If that is so, there are some great surprises in store for more than one in this parish. And no one will be more surprised than my worthy cousin, but he will be the only person that is sorry to see me. Oh, for half an hour with him alone!" At that very moment Jasper was coming to meet me. I knew it not, nor did he. Between the churchyard and the manor-house of Beechcot there is a field called the Duke's Garth, and across this runs a foot-path. As I turned away from reading my own epitaph, I saw a figure advancing along this path and making for the churchyard. It was the figure of a man, and he was singing some catch or song softly to himself. I recognized the voice at once. It was Jasper's. I drew back into the shadow cast by the buttress of the chancel and waited his coming. We were going to settle our account once and forever. He came lightly over the stile which separates the garth from the churchyard, and was making rapid strides towards the vicarage when I stopped him. "Jasper," I said, speaking in a deep voice and concealing myself in the shadow. "Jasper Stapleton." He stopped instantly, and stood looking intently towards where I stood. "Who calls me?" he said. "I, Jasper,--thy cousin, Humphrey Salkeld." I could have sworn that he started and began to tremble. But suddenly he laughed. "Dead men call nobody," said he. "You are some fool that is trying to frighten me. Come out, sirrah!" And he drew near. I waited till he was close by, and then I stepped into the moonlight, which fell full and clear on my face. He gave a great cry, and lifting up his arm as if to ward off a blow fell back a pace or two and stood staring at me. "Humphrey!" he cried. "None other, cousin. The dead, you see, sometimes come to life again. And I am very much alive, Jasper." He stood still staring at me, and clutching his heart as if his breath came with difficulty. "What have you to say, Jasper?" I asked at length. "We--we thought you were drowned," he gasped out. "There is an inscription on your father's tombstone." "Liar!" I said. "You know I was not drowned. You know that you contrived that I should be carried to Mexico. Tell me no more lies, cousin. Let us for once have the plain truth. Why did you treat me as you did at Scarborough?" "Because you stood 'twixt me and the inheritance," he muttered sullenly.