The ex-smuggler snatched his pipe from his lips, and seemed for an
instant as if he were about to dash it to the ground in a fury. But he
recovered himself, and pretended only to be shaking out the ashes
before he returned the cutty to his mouth.
“Secrets?” said he. “Why, you makes me laugh to talk of having secrets
here!”
He broke off, restless in a shaking way to get his pipe to draw; then
turned suddenly upon me.
“_You’re_ a gen’leman, sir,” he said, “and should know better--nor to
meddle _in_ things what don’t concarn you. The Lord has putt His seal
on this here hill: _you_ let it alone--_if_ I may make free to be His
mouthpiece, like Ezekiel what was told to warn the evil doers that
they come not to grief--_and_ die.”
I laughed.
“O, you flatter yourself, Mr. Rampick!” I said. “You aren’t a bit like
Ezekiel.”
He stood regarding me, half perplexed, half malignant, for a minute;
then settled himself down on a stone and smoked away, silent, his eyes
staring and full of a vicious resolution.
“Come on, Dick,” said Harry, seeing it obvious that the man meant to
outstay us, and took my arm and walked me off.
“But we’ll have the badger, nevertheless,” he said, when we were out
of hearing, “and in spite of that sot. Can’t make him out, can you?
Should have thought he’d have welcomed the chance of recovering some
of his old brandy tubs.”
CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT STORM.
“Which it’s well known that ’ope deferred maketh a cat sick,” said
Mrs. Puddephatt, with unintentional irreverence, referring to my
report to my uncle of our late meeting with Mr. Rampick. She was by
this time quite in the family confidence. “Bless you, Master Richard,”
said she, “it’s not the Lord’s secret the man’s so keerful of; it’s
’is hown, living all these years on the ’opes of salvidge from the
’ill, and jealous of hothers steppin’ hin and anticepting of ’im.”
Uncle Jenico laughed.
“You’re still as sceptical as ever about the earthquake, Mrs.
Puddephatt,” said he. “Now, it occurs to me, if the hill was, as you
suppose, a rendezvous for smugglers, who by some folly entombed
themselves therein, why wasn’t the whole village plunged immediately
into mourning for the loss at a blow of so many fathers and brothers?”
Mrs. Puddephatt, standing with folded arms and a bleak, patient smile,
awaited his good pleasure to answer.
“Hev you adone, sir?” she now demanded. “Don’t let me hinterrupt you
before you’ve got it hall hout.”
“Thank you,” said Uncle Jenico, a little abashed. “I think there’s
nothing more.”
“Ho!” said the lady, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then let me hexpress
at once, sir, before more’s said, my hobligation for your supposing as
I’m supposing.”
“I admit it was unpardonable,” answered my uncle, with a beaming but
rather frightened smile. “I should have understood, of course, that
you have warrant for your smugglers.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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