"Let us hope that Hubert's freak may prove no worse than yours," said Ella, cheeringly. "Wait a moment; don't go; I want to speak to you." Failing Hubert, Miss Winter had made up her mind to question Aaron as to whether he knew anything or not, for her suspense was becoming intolerable. "Aaron," she began very gravely, "when your grandson Hubert was on board the wreck with me that afternoon, now three weeks ago, he told me something which made a very great impression upon me at the time, and which I cannot forget since. It is in my mind every hour of the day--a source of annoyance. As he does not return, I must question you." Aaron gazed at his mistress. She thought he looked uneasy. "What he said was this: 'A dozen words from me, and Heron Dyke would know you as its mistress no more. What you hold, you hold by fraud.' Now, Aaron Stone, I ask you, as my uncle's old and faithful servant, to tell me what meaning was hidden in your grandson's words, when he spoke to me thus." Aaron's face was turning livid; he stood a picture of abject terror. Twice he essayed to speak, and twice no sound came from his dry lips. Miss Winter noted the emotion. "What he knows--if there is anything to know--I think you must know; and I ask you, Aaron, what he meant." "I know no more than the dead what he meant," gasped the old man in a husky whisper. "He must have been mad--mad!" "Can you attach no meaning to his words?" "None, ma'am; none whatever. He must have been quite mad." "No, he was not mad, I think. He spoke those words as a truthful man speaks. It seemed to me then, it seems to me still, that there was truth in them: though I don't know how much." "Miss Ella," cried the old man eagerly, "you know what has been said--that a keg o' spirits was on board below. Hubert must have got to it." That this was to a certain extent true, she believed; but not that he had taken sufficient to induce him to invent such a thing. "His mother died in an asylum, poor thing," resumed Aaron, catching up his labouring breath; "and at times--only at times, you know, ma'am--I have not been able to rightly make him out, and I've fancied that he might have a touch of her complaint, and wasn't altogether his own master. It must have been so that afternoon." Aaron's hands trembled like those of a man afflicted with palsy, and the muscles of his face twitched convulsively as he spoke. His mistress could scarcely find in her heart to question him further. "And yet it was a very strange assertion for Hubert to make," she said, speaking gently. "He stated distinctly that I held Heron Dyke by fraud. Now, were such the case, Aaron, you, as my uncle's confidential servant, must surely be aware of it. Hubert would not know what you do not, especially of a grave secret." "That he'd not," affirmed the old man. "I knew more of the Squire's secrets, Miss Ella, than any man living. Were he alive this moment he'd tell you so."