The old woman must have been a marvellously sensitive subject, for she leaned against the wall--her stool had no back--and closed her eyes in apparent deep slumber almost immediately. Her face was perfectly expressionless, and her limbs were absolutely still. She looked--as Cyril thought, with a shudder--like a corpse. Durgo spoke softly in her ear: "Are you free?" he asked gently. "Yes," said Mrs. Tunks, in a far-away, faint voice. "Go to the Manor-house." "I am there." "Enter!" "The door is fast closed," said Mrs. Tunks, still faintly. "Doors are no bars to you now; you can pass through the door." There came a short pause. "I have passed. I am inside." "Seek out Vand and his wife," commanded the negro softly. "I have found them." "What are they doing?" demanded Durgo, sharply. "Packing boxes," came the response, without hesitation; "they talk of going away to-night." "Where to?" "I can't say: they don't mention the place. But they leave the Manor-house under cover of darkness to-night." "Look for the jewels." "I have looked." "Where are they?" "In a small portmanteau, marked with two initials." "What are the initials?" "M. F. Oh!" Mrs. Tunks' voice became very weary. "The mist has come on. I can see no more. It is not permitted to know more." Durgo looked disappointed, and seemed inclined to force his will. But after a frowning pause, he waved his hands rapidly, and spoke with great sharpness. "Come back," he said briefly, and after a moment or so, the old woman opened her eyes quietly. Her gaze met the angry one of Durgo, and she winced. "Have I not pleased you, master?" she asked, timidly. "Yes. You have pleased me. But I wish you could have learned more." "What did I say?" asked Granny, wonderingly. "Never mind. Here"--Durgo produced a small canvas bag from his pocket--"this is the money you have earned." Mrs. Tunks hastily untied the mouth of the bag, and poured a glittering stream of gold into her lap. "Fifty sovereigns, lovey," she mumbled, her eyes glowing with avaricious delight. "Thank you, master; oh, thank you." "In an hour," said Durgo, indifferent to her thanks, "I shall send you a small bottle containing a draught, which you can give to your grandson. It will put him right; but of course a few days will elapse before he can get quite strong again. This place"--he glanced disparagingly round the dingy hut--"is not healthy." "So I thought, master. And to-night Luke is going to my sister's caravan. It's on the road outside Marshely, and the gel can take him there. If Luke has a month or two of the open road, he'll soon be himself again. Anything more I can tell you, master?" "No. But to-night I am coming here, shortly after moonrise. Get rid of your grandson beforehand, if you can." "What is to be done, master?" "Never mind. Do as you're told. Good-day," and Durgo, beckoning to Cyril, went out of the hut. The white man followed, in a state of great amazement.