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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Well, there's Tallington's name to back it," said one of the men. "We all know Tallington. What he says, he does. The money'll be there if it's earned." Then they all looked at each other silently, surmise and speculation in the eyes of each. "Tell you what!" suddenly observed the little tradesman, as if struck with a clever idea. "It might be young Bent! Five hundred pound is naught to him.
The wheelwright shook his head he could not trust himself to speak; and Dick stood with a sensation of rage gathering in his breast, which made him feel ready to spring at Farmer Tallington's throat, and accuse him of being his father's murderer. "The hypocrite the cowardly hypocrite!" he said to himself; "but we know now, and he shall be punished."
But hev they ketched him?" "No, and not likely to. There, never mind Tallington's stacks; let's try for the pike."
"Deal better at home," was the reply, as the door was closed behind them, shutting out the warmth and light; and the little party went down a path leading through the clump of firs which formed a landmark for miles in the great level fen, and then down the slope on the far side, and on to the rough road which ran past Farmer Tallington's little homestead.
"I dunno 'bout bad enew," said the big wheelwright; "but strikes me Farmer Tallington's right. That stack couldn't set itself afire, and get bont up wi'out some one striking a light!" "No, no!" said the squire. "I will not think such a thing of any neighbour for twenty miles round. Now, Mr Tallington, come over to my place and have a comfortable meal; Mrs Tallington will come too."
A pole across a stone wall was another splendid aid to horsemanship, see-saw fashion, or turned into a steed for one, by wedging the thick end into a hole and riding the thin end, spring fashion; while, as the years rolled by and the boys were back from school, an occasional mount was had upon Saxon, Tallington's old grey horse, falsely said to be nearly two hundred.
There was no cowardice in Tom Tallington's nature.
Then he thought of the evening when Mr Marston had been brought in wounded, and the other cases which had evidently been the work of those opposed to the draining the fire at Tallington's, the houghing of the horses, the shots fired, the blowing up of the sluice-gate. "And they think I did it all," he said to himself with a bitter laugh; "a boy like me!"
"Money'll be all right," observed one of the speaker's companions. "There's Lawyer Tallington's name at the foot o' that bill. He wouldn't put his name to no offer o' that sort if he hadn't the brass in hand." "Whose money is it, then?" demanded the first speaker. "It's not a Government reward. They say that Kitely had no relatives, so it can't be them.
The first thing that Bent's eyes encountered when he entered Tallington's private room ten minutes later was the black-bound, brass-clasped scrap-book, which Brereton had carried down with him and had set on the solicitor's desk. He started at the sight of it, and turned quickly from one man to the other. "What's that doing here?" he asked, "is have you made some discovery? Why am I wanted?"
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