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The house had been fired, by whom was never known, though it was said that the traitor, Jonathan Dicksey, had returned and done it, either for a bribe or that his own sin might be forgotten in this great catastrophe. "The house burns," said Emlyn in her quiet voice. "Now, if you would save your life, follow me. Beneath this tower is a vault where no flame can touch us."
Had heard tell of him often, and knew he had been at the house the night of my lady's arrival, and that there had been a row." Mr. Dicksey was here sharply reprimanded, informed that his suspicions and hearsays were not wanted, and requested to come back to the point. He came back. The breathless silence of coroner, jury, and spectators at this juncture was something not to be described.
Had told Superintendent Ferrick something of this next day, but this was all yes so help him, all he had heard, and just as he had heard it." James Dicksey was rigidly cross-examined, and clung to his testimony with a dogged tenacity nothing could alter or shake. He could swear positively to the name she had uttered, to the words both had spoken, if he were dying.
In either event you can say that I compelled you to stand by us, and that you have shed no man's blood; also I will give you a writing." So they talked together gloomily, and at last announced that when he and their lady went they would go also and get off as best they could. But there was a man among them, a small farmer named Jonathan Dicksey, who thought otherwise.
"Now God is good to us. We have these birds in our net, and I shall keep St. Hilary's at Blossholme after all. For your services, Master Dicksey, you shall be my reeve at Cranwell Towers when they are in my hands."
In that profound silence, James Dicksey went rambling on to say, that he could swear before the Queen herself to those words, that he had been thinking them over ever since he had heard them, and that he couldn't make top or tail of them. Be careful, remember you are on oath." JAMES DICKSEY. "I heard what my lady said. She was in an awful passion, and spoke loud.
"About half-past six on Friday evening, Mr. Dicksey was rambling about the grounds, in the direction of the laurel walk. In the open ground it was still quite light, in the laurel walk it was growing dusk. As he drew near, he heard voices in the laurel walk angry voices, though not very loud the voices of a man and a woman. Peeped in and saw my lady. Yes, it was my lady yes, he was sure.
A profound sensation ran through the room as James Dicksey sat down a thrill of unutterable apprehension and fear. The examination of these three witnesses had occupied the whole of the afternoon. The court adjourned until next morning at ten o'clock. The excitement was intense you might have heard a pin drop in the silence, when the examination of witnesses was resumed. WITNESS. "I do."
James Dicksey was next called. James Dicksey, a shambling lad of eighteen, took his place, his eyes rolling in abject terror, and under the evident impression that he was being tried for his life. Every answer was wrung from this frightened youth, as with red-hot pincers, and it was with the utmost difficulty anything consistent could be extorted at all.
It was quite clear both to the husband and to the wife, that he was preparing himself for rebellion against authority. For some ten minutes there was nothing said. Crosbie amused himself by playing with the boy whom he called Dicksey, by way of a nickname for de Courcy. "Mamma, he calls me Dicksey. Am I Dicksey? I'll call 'oo old Cross and then Aunt Dina 'on't like 'oo."
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