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No, sir, Fate's a werry wexed problem, sir, and I don't understand it, no, nor ever shall." "But this was very simple," said Barnabas, slipping his hand in Mr. Shrig's arm, and leading him away from the barn, "very simple indeed, I got here before they came, and hid in the loft. Then, while they were waiting for me down below, you came and frightened them away." "Ah!
At this juncture, with a soft knock on the door, Clegg presented himself, bearing the following letter from my uncle. MY DEAR PEREGRINE: I am grateful for your forethought, but you may suffer the man to visit me, for the law is the law besides, the man Shrig is an old acquaintance. Moreover I have learned all I desired from the scrap of paper and it is therefore entirely at Mr. Shrig's service.
Somewhere along the dark River hoarse cries arose, and the confused patter of running feet that drew rapidly louder and more distinct. Nearer they came until Barnahas could hear voices that panted out fierce curses; also he heard Mr. Shrig's pistol click as it was cocked. So, another minute dragged by and then, settling his broad-brimmed hat more firmly, Mr.
"Have you written down the name of Haredale in your little book?" I enquired. "Haredale, Mr. Werricker, sir? V'y no, I ain't. V'y should I, sir? Vot ha' you to tell me about any party, name o' Haredale?" "Only that you will find such a name on the piece of paper you are after." Mr. Shrig's roving eye fixed me for a moment. "Haredale?" he muttered, shaking his head, "Haredale?"
Shrig's gruesome errand, but rather of shady copse, of murmurous brooks and of one whose vivid presence had been an evergrowing joy and inspiration, waking me to nobler manhood, filling me with aspirations to heroic achievement; and to-day here sat I, lost in futile dreams scorning myself for a miserable failure while the soul within me wept for that Diana of the vanished past
Then Barnabas rose, and coming to the window, peered cautiously out, and there, standing before the barn surveying its dilapidation with round, approving eyes, his nobbly stick beneath his arm, his high-crowned, broad-brimmed hat upon his head, was Mr. Shrig. Surprise and something very like disappointment were in Mr. Shrig's look as Barnabas stepped out from the yawning doorway of the barn.
And I've a varrant o' search " Entering my small library, I espied Mr. Shrig's knobbed staff lying upon my desk and beside it a letter laid carefully apart from a pile of unopened missives. "Is this the letter?" "The werry same, sir." "But if you have read it, how comes the seal unbroken?" "By means of a warm knife-blade, sir."
"Run! Run!" whispered Mr. Shrig's voice behind him. "Ve can do it now, run!" "No!" panted Barnabas, wiping the blood from his cheek. "Run!" cried Mr. Shrig again, "there's a place I knows on close by ve can reach it in a jiff this vay, run!" "No!" "Not run? then v'ot vill ye do?" "Make them!" "Are ye mad? Ha! look out!"
"Aye, sir both! Vich is comin' it a bit too low down on a man an' no error! To ha' lost both on 'em crool 'ard I calls it!" Sick with horror, I was stumbling away from this dreadful place when Mr. Shrig's voice stayed me. "'Old 'ard, sir bide a bit! If the con-clusions as I've drawed is correct, here should be summat o' yourn."
Shrig's little book, slipped it into his pocket, felt a stunning blow, and reeled back, suddenly faint and sick. And now a mist seemed to envelop him, but in the mist were faces above, below, around him, faces to be struck at.
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