The servant bent forward, his fevered eyes sparkling. “Such dear confidence as I have sickened for!” he cried. “To look upon your face, and see the bold light break from it, and know I am trusted and believed in!” “That shall be so, Dennis. Now, one thing, I mind me, you have made no mention of--your sister.” “She was brought to me, sir, the first year of my care-keeping, and here, by Mr. Creel’s permission, she remained.” “Brought to you? Whence, and by Whom?” The answer was near inaudible: “By a woman that juggled in a travelling show. They had thought to use the mite to a like trade, but her wits ran crooked with their wants, and they were glad to be quit of an encumbrance. She was a natural from the first--a queer, wild midget that was for ever wandering by down and fell and storing, like a magpie, her pitiful wreck of treasures. She was but a snip of five or so when she brought that home--that home--oh, sir! the horrible gallows-tree, that I never dared within eyeshot of, but would walk a mile to avoid.” Once more a pause fell. “And so you have told me all?” said Mr. Tuke by and by. Whimple’s colour heightened; but he was silent. “All that is material, I mean. ’Twill serve, ’twill serve; and the rest go hang. Now, I have wronged you, Dennis, and we shall e’en be friends according to our positions.” The man fell into thanks, with a broken voice. “Nay,” said the other; “for all my strength you flatter, I can ill afford to walk my difficult path without support. And, tell me--you have no least knowledge or surmise of where this mighty gem lies hid?” “I know no more, by my honour, sir, than bloody Jack himself--or whether, indeed, the fact of its existence be not a bug of evil men’s fancy.” “That _I_ can answer; for I have heard from whom the jewel was stole in the first instance. And now, Mr. Dennis Whimple, I must ask if you relate all this for my private ear; for I must inform you the interests of another are gravely compromised in the matter.” “Ah, sir! do you not offer me your noble protection? Before, I stood in bitter desperate loneliness. I place the issue joyfully in your hands, to act as you anyhow will upon my statement.” “You shall not misprofit thereby. Take rest, good fellow, and we will come to further discussion hereafter.” “I am well--I am restored. You have made a man of me.” CHAPTER XXIV. “Blythewood,” said Mr. Tuke, “’twould be a rare thing could we light on this bogle-gem--succeed where a whole troop of cut-throats had failed--and bribe Luvaine to sanity thereby. But, I confess, it strikes me hard that I am to serve meanwhile as whipping-boy to his rueful worship; to know him warm in his blankets, while the vermin overrun my estate o’ cold nights for a treasure he hath lost.” “’Tis the fortune of battle, Tuke, and like cryin’ ‘God bless his Majesty!’ for the favour of a bayonet-thrust under king’s button.” “Yes, but I seek no glory.”