Then, silencing all his companion’s questions until they should be above ground, he seized his arm and hurried him upstairs, where they found little Jack making mud-pies in the outer doorway. In a few words, and with an air of the deepest confidence, Rees then told Sep the story of the MS., the supposed lost treasure, of his discoveries and his hopes. Sep was desperately interested, ready to hazard his own limbs, if needful, to help his friend’s researches, although he knew by this confidence Rees was only making a virtue of necessity. They decided that, as Sep had not the same right of entry as Rees, some way must be found to draw him up over the castle walls. Sep, who, on hearing his friend had gone into the castle, had braved torrents of rain and huge stretches of mud to meet him, was ready to submit even to this. They left the ruins together, and meeting Goodhare, who was, as usual, on the watch outside, Rees introduced him as a confidant, and related his discoveries. Amos could scarcely conceal his rage and disappointment--rage that a new hand should be engaged in the work, to take his share of the hoped-for spoil; disappointment at the result of the discovery on which Rees counted so much. “What on earth possesses you, Pennant, to imagine that any good can come of your finding an old blocked-up drain?” he asked scornfully. Rees, exhausted by excitement and manual labour of an unaccustomed kind, and flushed by a sense of achievement, was incensed by the question and by this familiar manner of address. “The feeling which possesses me,” he answered promptly, “is indignation that I should associate myself in any work with an impudent and lazy rascal, who waits outside for the result of other people’s labor.” Instead of resenting this insolence, Goodhare listened with his head bent down, as if with remorse, and made full and ample apology for his impatience. But when he had turned to go back to his library, after a most affectionate and respectful farewell to Rees, and a cordial one to the new associate in the enterprise, Sep linked his arm within that of his friend, and suggested, in his mincing voice and manner: “I say, Rees, you made a mistake with that old boy just now. You didn’t notice his face as he hung his head down. Now, if you were to call me a humbug, a liar, and a thief, I should forget it, knowing that we’re friends for all that. But this old fox remembers. I know he hates me, but through thick and thin I’m going to treat him like a brother.” “Well, I don’t pretend I can hide my feelings,” said Rees, in a tone of large generosity. “It’s necessary, though, when one’s not quite acting on the square.” “What do you mean, Sep?” and Rees turned on him quite fiercely. “Do you think I’m such a skunk as not to give Lord St. Austell what belongs to him, shamefully as he has treated me?” “Oh, no, no, Rees, I forgot for the moment,” answered Sep.