This was too much! _Pay_ the man that played upon me after I was made into bagpipes! The idea was too frightful. ‘I must look out for business, you know; and, by Jove! I shall never have such a chance, if I live to the age of Methuselah.’ ‘Well, you shall not have it from me.’ ‘Then,’ said the man, rising, ‘you are more of a fool than I took you for.’ ‘Sir!’ said my uncle. ‘No offence; no offence, I assure you. But it is provoking to find people so blind--so wilfully blind--to their own interest. You may say I have nothing to lose. Give me the boy, and I’ll bring him up like my own son; send him to school and college, too--all on the chance of being repaid twice over by--’ I knew this was all a trick to get hold of my skin. The man said it on his way to the door, his ape-face shining dim as he turned it a little back in the direction of my uncle, who followed with the candle. I lost the last part of the sentence in the terror which sent me bounding up the stair in my usual four-footed fashion. I leaped into my bed, shaking with cold and agony combined. But I had the satisfaction presently of hearing the _thud_ of the horse’s hoofs upon the sward, dying away in the direction whence they had come. After that I soon fell asleep. I need hardly say that I never set the pendulum swinging again. Many years after, I came upon it when searching for a key, and the thrill which vibrated through my whole frame announced a strange and unwelcome presence long before my memory could recall its origin. It must not be supposed that I pretend to remember all the conversation I have just set down. The words are but the forms in which, enlightened by facts which have since come to my knowledge, I clothe certain vague memories and impressions of such an interview as certainly took place. In the morning, at breakfast, my aunt asked my uncle who it was that paid such an untimely visit the preceding night. ‘A fellow from Minstercombe’ (the county town), ‘an attorney--what did he say his name was? Yes, I remember. It was the same as the steward’s over the way. Coningham, it was.’ ‘Mr Coningham has a son there--an attorney too, I think,’ said my aunt. My uncle seemed struck by the reminder, and became meditative. ‘That explains his choosing such a night to come in. His father is getting an old man now. Yes, it must be the same.’ ‘He’s a sharp one, folk say,’ said my aunt, with a pointedness in the remark which showed some anxiety. ‘That he cannot conceal, sharp as he is,’ said my uncle, and there the conversation stopped.