by E. Nesbit
CHAPTER X
THE NOBLE DEED
WHEN Lord Arden and Elfrida and Edred reached the castle and found thatDickie had not come back, the children concluded that Beale hadpersuaded him to stay the night at the cottage. And Lord Arden thoughtthat the children must be right. He was extremely annoyed both withBeale and with Dickie for making such an arrangement without consultinghim.
"It is impertinent of Beale and thoughtless of the boy," he said; "and Ishall speak a word to them both in the morning."
But when Edred and Elfrida were gone to bed Lord Arden found that hecould not feel quite sure or quite satisfied. Suppose Dickie was not atBeale's? He strolled up to the cottage to see. Everything was dark atthe cottage. He hesitated, then knocked at the door. At the third knockBeale, very sleepy, put his head out of the window.
"Who's there?" said he.
"I am here," said Lord Arden. "Richard is asleep, I suppose?"
"I suppose so, my lord," said Beale, sleepy and puzzled.
"You have given me some anxiety. I had to come up to make sure he washere."
"But 'e _ain't_ 'ere," said Beale. "Didn't you pick 'im up with thedog-cart, same as you said you would?"
"No," shouted Lord Arden. "Come down, Beale, and get a lantern. Theremust have been an accident."
The bedroom window showed a square of light, and Lord Arden below heardBeale blundering about above.
"'Ere's your coat," Mrs. Beale's voice sounded; "never mind lacing up ofyour boots. You orter gone a bit of the way with 'im."
"Well, I offered for to go, didn't I?" Beale growled, blundered down thestairs and out through the wash-house, and came round the corner of thehouse with a stable lantern in his hand. He came close to where LordArden stood--a tall, dark figure in the starlight--and spoke in a voicethat trembled.
"The little nipper," he said; and again, "the little nipper. Ifanything's happened to 'im! Swelp me! gov'ner--my lord, I mean. What Imeanter say, if anything's 'appened to _'im_! One of the best!"
The two men went quickly towards the gate. As they passed down thequiet, dusty road Beale spoke again.
"I wasn't no good--I don't deceive you, guv'ner--a no account man Iwas, swelp me! And the little 'un, 'e tidied me up and told me tales andkep' me straight. It was 'is doing me and 'Melia come together. An' thedogs an' all. An' the little one. An' 'e got me to chuck the cadgin'.An' worse. 'E don't know what I was like when I met 'im. Why, I set outto make a blighted burglar of 'im--you wouldn't believe!"
And out the whole story came as Lord Arden and he went along the grayroad, looking to right and left where no bushes were nor stones, onlythe smooth curves of the down, so that it was easy to see that no littleboy was there either.
They looked for Dickie to right and left and here and there underbushes, and by stiles and hedges, and with trembling hearts theysearched in the little old chalk quarry, and the white moon came up verylate to help them. But they did not find him, though they roused a dozenmen in the village to join in the search, and old Beale himself, whoknew every yard of the ground for five miles round, came out with thespaniel who knew every inch of it for ten. But True rushed about thehouse and garden whining and yelping so piteously that 'Melia tied himup, and he stayed tied up.
And so, when Edred and Elfrida came down to breakfast, Mrs. Honeysettmet them with the news that Dickie was lost and their father still outlooking for him.
"It's that beastly magic," said Edred as soon as the children werealone. "He's done it once too often, and he's got stuck some time inhistory and can't get back."
"And we can't do anything. We can't get to him," said Elfrida. "Oh! ifonly we'd got the old white magic and the Mouldiwarp to help us, wecould find out what's become of him."
"Perhaps he has fallen down a disused mine," Edred suggested, "and islying panting for water, and his faithful dog has jumped down after himand broken all its dear legs."
Elfrida melted to tears at this desperate picture, melted to aspeechless extent.
"We can't do anything," said Edred again; "don't snivel like that, forgoodness' sake, Elfrida. This is a man's job. Dry up. I can't think,with you blubbing like that."
"I'm not," said Elfrida untruly, and sniffed with some intensity.
"If you could make up some poetry now," Edred went on, "would that beany good?"
"Not without the dresses," she sniffed. "You know we always had dressesfor our magic, or nearly always; and they have to be dead and gonepeople's dresses, and you'll only go to the dead and gone people's timewhen the dresses were worn. Oh! dear Dickie, and if he's really down amine, or things like that, what's the good of anything?"
"I'm going to try, anyway," said Edred, "at least you must too. BecauseI can't make poetry."
"No more can I when I'm as unhappy as this. Poetry's the last thing youthink of when you're mizzy."
"We could dress up, anyway," said Edred hopefully. "The bits of armorout of the hall, and the Indian feather head-dresses father broughthome, and I have father's shooting-gaiters and brown paper tops, and youcan have Aunt Edith's Roman sash. It's in the right-hand corner drawer.I saw it on the wedding day when I went to get her prayer-book."
"I don't want to dress up," said Elfrida; "I want to find Dickie."
"I don't want to dress up either," said Edred; "but we must dosomething, and perhaps, I know it's just only perhaps, it might help ifwe dressed up. Let's try it, anyway."
Elfrida was too miserable to argue. Before long two most miserablechildren faced each other in Edred's bedroom, dressed as Red Indians sofar as their heads and backs went. Then came lots of plate armor forchest and arms; then, in the case of Elfrida, petticoats and Roman sashand Japanese wickerwork shoes and father's shooting-gaiters made tolook like boots by brown paper tops. And in the case of Edred, legscased in armor that looked like cricket pads, ending in jointedfoot-coverings that looked like chrysalises. (I am told the correctplural is chrysalides, but life would be dull indeed if one always usedthe correct plural.) They were two forlorn faces that looked at eachother as Edred said--
"Now the poetry."
"I can't," said Elfrida, bursting into tears again; "I _can't_! Sothere. I've been trying all the time we've been dressing, and I can onlythink of--
"Oh, call dear Dickie back to me, I cannot play alone; The summer comes with flower and bee, Where is dear Dickie gone?
And I know that's no use."
"I should think not," said Edred. "Why, it isn't your own poetry at all.It's Felicia M. Hemans'. I'll try." And he got a pencil and paper andtry he did, his very hardest, be sure. But there are some things thatthe best and bravest cannot do. And the thing Edred couldn't do was tomake poetry, however bad. He simply couldn't do it, any more than youcan fly. It wasn't in him, any more than wings are on you.
"Oh, Mouldiwarp, you said we must Not have any more magic. But we trust You won't be hard on us, because Dickie is lost And we don't know how to find him."
That was the best Edred could do, and I tell it to his credit, he reallydid feel doubtful whether what he had so slowly and carefully writtenwas indeed genuine poetry. So much so, that he would not show it toElfrida until she had begged very hard indeed. At about the thirtieth"Do, please! Edred, do!" he gave her the paper. No little girl was evermore polite than Elfrida or less anxious to hurt the feelings of others.But she was also quite truthful, and when Edred said in an ashamed,muffled voice, "Is it all right, do you think?" the best she could findby way of answer was, "I don't know much about poetry. We'll try it."
And they did try it, and nothing happened.
"I knew it was no good," Edred said crossly; "and I've made an ass ofmyself for nothing."
"Well, I've often made one of myself," said Elfrida comfortingly, "and Iwill again if you like. But I don't suppose it'll be any more good thanyours."
Elfrida frowned fiercely and the feathers on her Indian head-dressquivered with the intensity of her effort.
/>
"Is it coming?" Edred asked in anxious tones, and she noddeddistractedly.
"Great Mouldiestwarp, on you we call To do the greatest magic of all; To show us how we are to find Dear Dickie who is lame and kind. Do this for us, and on our hearts we swore We'll never ask you for anything more."
"I don't see that it's so much better than mine," said Edred, "and itought to be _swear_, not _swore_."
"I don't think it is. But you didn't finish yours. And it couldn't be'swear,' because of rhyming," Elfrida explained. "But I'm sure if theMouldiestwarp hears it he won't care tuppence whether it's swear orswore. He is much too great. He's far above grammar, I'm sure."
"I wish every one was," sighed Edred, and I dare say you have often feltthe same.
"Well, fire away! Not that it's any good. Don't you remember you canonly get at the Mouldiestwarp by a noble deed? And wanting to findDickie isn't noble."
"No," she agreed; "but then if we could get Dickie back by doing a nobledeed we'd do it like a shot, wouldn't we?"
"Oh! I suppose so," said Edred grumpily; "fire away, can't you?"
Elfrida fired away, and the next moment it was plain that Elfrida'spoetry was more potent than Edred's; also that a little bad grammar is atrifle to a mighty Mouldiwarp.
For the walls of Edred's room receded further and further, till thechildren found themselves in a great white hall with avenues of tallpillars stretching in every direction as far as you could see. The hallwas crowded with people dressed in costumes of all countries and allages--Chinamen, Indians, Crusaders in armor, powdered ladies, doubletedgentlemen, Cavaliers in curls, Turks in turbans, Arabs, monks, abbesses,jesters, grandees with ruffs round their necks, and savages with kiltsof thatch. Every kind of dress you can think of was there. Only all thedresses were white. It was like a _redoute_, which is a fancy-dress ballwhere the guests may wear any dress they choose, only all the dressesmust be of one color.
Elfrida saw the whiteness all about her and looked down anxiously at herclothes and Edred's, which she remembered to have been of rather oddcolors. Everything they wore was white now. Even the Roman sash, insteadof having stripes blue and red and green and black and yellow, was offive different shades of white. If you think there are not so manyshades of white, try to paper a room with white paper and get it at fivedifferent shops.
The people round the children pushed them gently forward. And then theysaw that in the middle of the hall was a throne of silver, spread with afringed cloth of checkered silver and green, and on it, with theMouldiwarp standing on one side and the Mouldierwarp on the other, theMouldiestwarp was seated in state and splendor. He was much larger thaneither of the other moles, and his fur was as silvery as the feathers ofa swan.
Every one in the room was looking at the two children, and it seemedimpossible for them not to advance, though slowly and shyly, right tothe front of the throne.
Arrived there, it seemed right to bow, very low. So they did it.
Then the Mouldiwarp said--
"What brings you here?"
"Kind magic," Elfrida answered.
And the Mouldierwarp said--
"What is your desire?"
And Edred said, "We want Dickie, please."
Then the Mouldiestwarp said, and it was to Edred that he said it--
"Dickie is in the hands of those who will keep him from you for many aday unless you yourself go, alone, and rescue him. It will be difficult,and it will be dangerous. Will you go?"
"Me? Alone?" said Edred rather blankly. "Not Elfrida?"
"Dickie can only be ransomed at a great price, and it must be paid byyou. It will cost you more to do it than it would cost Elfrida, becauseshe is braver than you are."
Here was a nice thing for a boy to have said to him, and before allthese people too! To ask a chap to do a noble deed and in the samebreath to tell him he is a coward!
Edred flushed crimson, and a shudder ran through the company.
"Don't turn that horrible color," whispered a white toreador who wasclose to him. "This is the _white_ world. No crimson allowed."
Elfrida caught Edred's hand.
"Edred is quite as brave as me," she said. "He'll go. Won't you?"
"Of course I will," said Edred impatiently.
"Then ascend the steps of the throne," said the Mouldiestwarp, verykindly now, "and sit here by my side."
Edred obeyed, and the Mouldiestwarp leaned towards him and spoke in hisear.
So that neither Elfrida nor any of the great company in the White Hallcould hear a word, only Edred alone.
"If you go to rescue Richard Arden," the Mouldiestwarp said, "you makethe greatest sacrifice of your life. For he who was called RichardHarding is Richard Arden, and it is he who is Lord Arden and not you oryour father. And if you go to his rescue you will be taking from yourfather the title and the Castle, and you will be giving up your place asheir of Arden to your cousin Richard who is the rightful heir."
"But how is he the rightful heir?" Edred asked, bewildered.
"Three generations ago," said the Mouldiestwarp, "a little baby wasstolen from Arden. Death came among the Ardens and that child became theheir to the name and the lands of Arden. The man who stole the childtook it to a woman in Deptford, and gave it in charge to her to nurse.She knew nothing but that the child's clothes were marked Arden, andthat it had, tied to its waist, a coral and bells engraved with a coatof arms. The man who had stolen the child said he would return in amonth. He never returned. He fought in a duel and was killed. But thenight before the duel he wrote a letter saying what he had done and putit in a secret cupboard behind a picture of a lady who was born anArden, at Talbot Court. And there that letter is to this day."
"I hope I shan't forget it all," said Edred.
"None ever forgets what I tell them," said the Mouldiestwarp. "Findingthat the man did not return, the Deptford woman brought up the child asher own. He grew up, was taught a trade and married a working girl. Thename of Arden changed itself, as names do, to Harding. Their child wasthe father of Richard whom you know. And he is Lord Arden."
"Yes," said Edred submissively.
"You will never tell your father this," the low, beautiful voice wenton; "you must not even tell your sister till you have rescued Dickie andmade the sacrifice. This is the one supreme chance of all your life.Every soul has one such chance, a chance to be perfectly unselfish,absolutely noble and true. You can take this chance. But you must takeit alone. No one can help you. No one can advise you. And you must keepthe nobler thought in your own heart till it is a noble deed. Then,humbly and thankfully in that you have been permitted to do so fine andbrave a thing and to draw near to the immortals of all ages who havesuch deeds to do and have done them, you may tell the truth to the onewho loves you best, your sister Elfrida."
"But isn't Elfrida to have a chance to be noble too?" Edred asked.
"She will have a thousand chances to be good and noble. And she willtake them all. But she will never know that she has done it," said theMouldiestwarp gravely. "Now--are you ready to do what is to be done?"
"It seems very unkind to daddy," said Edred, "stopping his being LordArden and everything."
"To do right often seems unkind to one or another," said theMouldiestwarp, "but think. How long would your father wish to keep hishouse and his castle if he knew that they belonged to some one else?"
"I see," said Edred, still doubtfully. "No, of course he wouldn't. Well,what am I to do?"
"When Dickie's father died, a Deptford woman related to Dickie's motherkept the child. She was not kind to him. And he left her. Later she meta man who had been a burglar. He had entered Talbot Court, opened apanel, and found that old letter that told of Dickie's birth. He and shehave kidnapped Dickie, hoping to get him to sign a paper promising topay them money for giving him the letter which tells how he is heir toArden. But already they have found out that a letter signed by a childis useless and unlawful. And they dare not l
et Richard go for fear ofpunishment. So, if you choose to do nothing your father is safe and youwill inherit Arden."
"What am I to do?" Edred asked again--"to get Dickie back, I mean."
"You must go alone and at night to Beale's cottage, open the door andyou will find Richard's dog asleep before the fire. You must unchain thedog and take him to the milestone by the crossroads. Then go where thedog goes. You will need a knife to cut cords with. And you will needall your courage. Look in my eyes."
Edred looked in the eyes of the Mouldiestwarp and saw that they were nolonger a mole's eyes but were like the eyes of all the dear people hehad ever known, and through them the soul of all the brave people he hadever read about looked out at him and said, "Courage, Edred. Be one ofus."
"Now look at the people on the Hall," said the Mouldiestwarp.
Edred looked. And behold, they were no longer strangers. He knew themall. Joan of Arc and Peter the Hermit, Hereward and Drake, Elsa whosebrothers were swans, St. George who killed the dragon, Blondel who sangto his king in prison, Lady Nithsdale who brought her husband safe outof the cruel Tower. There were captains who went down with their ships,generals who died fighting for forlorn hopes, patriots, kings, nuns,monks, men, women, and children--all with that light in their eyes whichbrightens with splendor the dreams of men.
And as he came down off the throne the great ones crowded round him,clasping his hand and saying--
"Be one of us, Edred. Be one of us."
Then an intense white light shone so that the children could see nothingelse. And then suddenly there they were again within the narrow wallsof Edred's bedroom.
"Well," said Elfrida in tones of brisk commonplace, "what did it say toyou? I say, you do look funny."
"Don't!" said Edred crossly. He began to tear off the armor. "Here, helpme to get these things off."
"But what did it say?" Elfrida asked, helpfully.
"I can't tell you. I'm not going to tell any one till it's over."
"Oh, just as you like," said Elfrida; "keep your old secrets," and lefthim.
That was hard, wasn't it?
"I can't help it, I tell you. Oh! Elfrida, if _you're_ going to botherit's just a little bit too much, that's all."
"You really mustn't tell me?"
"I've told you so fifty times," he said. Which was untrue. You know hehad really only told her twice.
"Very well, then," she said heroically, "I won't ask you a single thing.But you'll tell me the minute you can, won't you? And you'll let mehelp?"
"Nobody can help, no one can advise me," Edred said. "I've got to do itoff my own bat if I do it at all. Now you just shut up, I want tothink."
This unusual desire quite awed Elfrida. But it irritated her too.
"Perhaps you'd like me to go away," she said ironically.
And Edred's wholly unexpected reply was, "Yes, please."
So she went.
And when she was gone Edred sat down on the box at the foot of his bedand tried to think. But it was not easy.
"I ought to go," he told himself.
"But think of your father," said something else which was himself too.
He thought so hard that his thoughts got quite confused. His head grewvery hot, and his hands and feet very cold. Mrs. Honeysett came in,exclaimed at his white face, felt his hands, said he was in a highfever, and put him to bed with wet rags on his forehead and hot-waterbottles to his feet. Perhaps he was feverish. At any rate he could neverbe sure afterwards whether there really had been a very polite andplausible black mole sitting on his pillow most of the day saying allthose things which the part of himself that he liked least agreed with.Such things as--
"Think of your father.
"No one will ever know.
"Dickie will be all right somehow.
"Perhaps you only dreamed that about Dickie being shut up somewhere andit's not true.
"Anyway, it's not your business, is it?" And so on. You know the sort ofthing.
Elfrida was not allowed to come into the room for fear Edred should beill with something catching. So he lay tossing all day, hearing theblack mole, or something else, say all these things and himself saying,"I must go.
"Oh! poor Dickie.
"I promised to go.
"Yes, I will go."
And late that night when Lord Arden had come home and had gone to bed,tired out by a long day's vain search for the lost Dickie, and wheneverybody was asleep, Edred got up and dressed. He put his bedroomcandle and matches in his pocket, crept down-stairs and out of the houseand up to Beale's. It was a slow and nervous business. More than once onthe staircase he thought he heard a stair creak behind him, and againand again as he went along the road he fancied he heard a soft footsteppad-padding behind him, but of course when he looked round he could seeno one was there. So presently he decided that it was cowardly to keeplooking round, and besides, it only made him more frightened. So he keptsteadily on and took no notice at all of a black patch by the sweetbrierbush by Beale's cottage door just exactly as if some one was crouchingin the shadow.
He pressed his thumb on the latch and opened the door very softly.Something moved inside and a chain rattled. Edred's heart gave a soft,uncomfortable jump. But it was only True, standing up to receivecompany. He saw the whiteness of the dog and made for it, felt for thechain, unhooked it from the staple in the wall, and went out again,closing the door after him, and followed very willingly by True. Againhe looked suspiciously at the shadow of the great sweetbrier, but thedog showed no uneasiness, so Edred knew that there was nothing to beafraid of. True, in fact, was the greatest comfort to him. He toldElfrida afterwards that it was all True's doing; he could never, he wassure, have gone on without that good companion.
True followed at the slack chain's end till they got to the milestone,and then suddenly he darted ahead and took the lead, the chain stretchedtaut, and the boy had all his work cut out to keep up with the dog. Upthe hill they went on to the downs, and in and out among the furzebushes. The night was no longer dark to Edred. His eyes had got used tothe gentle starlight, and he followed the dog among the gorse andbrambles without stumbling and without hurting himself against themillion sharp spears and thorns.
Suddenly True paused, sniffed, sneezed, blew through his nose and beganto dig.
"Come on, come on, good dog," said Edred, "come on, True," for his fancypictured Dickie a prisoner in some lonely cottage, and he longed to getto it and set him free and get safe back home with him. So he pulled atthe chain. But True only shook himself and went on digging. The spot hehad chosen was under a clump of furze bigger than any they had passed.The sharp furze-spikes pricked his nose and paws, but True was not thedog to be stopped by little things like that. He only stopped every nowand then to sneeze and blow, and then went on digging.
Edred remembered the knife he had brought. It was the big pruning-knifeout of the drawer in the hall. He pulled it out. He would cut away someof the furze branches. Perhaps Dickie was lying bound, hidden in themiddle of the furze bush.
"Dickie," he said softly, "Dickie."
But no one answered. Only True sneezed and snuffed and blew and went ondigging.
So then Edred took hold of a branch of furze to cut it, and it was looseand came away in his hand without any cutting. He tried another. Thattoo was loose. He took off his jacket and threw it over his hands toprotect them, and seizing an armful of furze pulled, and fell back, agreat bundle of the prickly stuff on top of him. True was pulling likemad at the chain. Edred scrambled up; the furze he had pulled awaydisclosed a hole, and True was disappearing down it. Edred saw, as thedog dragged him close to the hole, that it was a large one, though onlypart of it had been uncovered. He stooped to peer in, his foot slippedon the edge, and he fell right into it, the dog dragging all the time.
"Stop, True; lie down, sir!" he said, and the dog paused, though thechain was still strained tight.
Then Edred was glad of his bedroom candle. He pulled it out and lightedit and blinked, perceivi
ng almost at once that he was in the beginningof an underground passage. He looked up; he could see above him thestars plain through a net of furze bushes. He stood up and True went on.Next moment he knew that he was in the old smugglers' cave that he andElfrida had so often tried to find.
The dog and the boy went on, along a passage, down steps cut in therock, through a rough, heavy door, and so into the smugglers' caveitself, an enormous cavern as big as a church. Out of an opening at theupper end a stream of water fell, and ran along the cave clear betweenshores of smooth sand.
And, lying on the sand near the stream, was something dark.
True gave a bound that jerked the chain out of Edred's hand, and leapedupon the dark thing, licking it, whining, and uttering little dog moansof pure love and joy. For the dark something was Dickie, fast asleep. Hewas bound with cords, his poor lame foot tied tight to the other one.His arms were bound too. And now he was awake.
"Down, True!" he said. "Hush! Ssh!"
"Where are they--the man and woman?" Edred whispered.
"Oh, Edred! You! You perfect brick!" Dickie whispered back. "They're inthe further cave. I heard them snoring before I went to sleep."
"Lie still," said Edred; "I've got a knife. I'll cut the cords."
He cut them, and Dickie tried to stand up. But his limbs were too stiff.Edred rubbed his legs, while Dickie stretched his fingers to get thepins and needles out of his arms.
Edred had stuck the candle in the sand. It made a ring of light roundthem. That was why they did not see a dark figure that came quietlycreeping across the sand towards them. It was quite close to them beforeEdred looked up.
"'ELFRIDA!' SAID BOTH BOYS AT ONCE"
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"Oh!" he gasped, and Dickie, looking up, whispered, "It's all up--_run_.Never mind me. I shall get away all right."
"No," said Edred, and then with a joyous leap of the heart perceivedthat the dark figure was Elfrida in her father's ulster.
("I hadn't time to put on my stockings," she explained later. "You'dhave known me a mile off by my white legs if I hadn't covered them upwith this.")
"Elfrida!" said both boys at once.
"Well, you didn't think I was going to be out of it," she said. "I'vebeen behind you all the way, Edred. Don't tell me anything. I won't askany questions, only come along out of it. Lean on me."
They got him up to the passage, one on each side, and by that timeDickie could use his legs and his crutch. They got home and roused LordArden, and told him Dickie was found and all about it, and he roused thehouse, and he and Beale and half-a-dozen men from the village went up tothe cave and found that wicked man and woman in a stupid sleep, and tiedtheir hands and marched them to the town and to the police-station.
When the man was searched the letter was found on him which the man--itwas that redheaded man you have heard of--had taken from TalbotCourt.
"I wish you joy of your good fortune, my boy," said Lord Arden when hehad read the letter. "Of course we must look into things, but I feel nodoubt at all that you _are_ Lord Arden!"
"I don't want to be," said Dickie, and that was true. Yet at the sametime he did want to be. The thought of being Richard, Lord Arden, he whohad been just little lame Dickie of Deptford, of owning this gloriouscastle, of being the master of an old name and an old place, thisthought sang in his heart a very beautiful tune. Yet what he said wastrue. There is so often room in our hearts for two tunes at a time. "Idon't want to be. You ought to be, sir. You've been so kind to me," hesaid.
"My dear boy," said the father of Edred and Elfrida, "I did very wellwithout the title and the castle, and if they're yours I shall do verywell without them again. You shall have your rights, my dear boy, and Ishan't be hurt by it. Don't you think that."
Dickie thought several things and shook the other's hand very hard.
The tale of Dickie's rescue from the cave was the talk of thecountryside. True was praised much, but Edred more. Why had no one elsethought of putting the dog on the scent? Edred said that it was mostlyTrue's doing. And the people praised his modesty. And nobody, exceptperhaps Elfrida, ever understood what it had cost Edred to go that nightthrough the dark and rescue his cousin.
Edred's father and Mrs. Honeysett agreed that Edred had done it in thedelirium of a fever, brought on by his anxiety about his friend andplaymate. People do, you know, do odd things in fevers that they wouldnever do at other times.
The redheaded man and the woman were tried at the assizes and punished.If you ask me how they knew about the caves which none of the countrypeople seemed to know of, I can only answer that I don't know. Only Iknow that every one you know knows lots of things that you don't knowthey know.
When they all went a week later to explore the caves, they found acurious arrangement of brickwork and cement and clay, shutting up a holethrough which the stream had evidently once flowed out into the openair. It now flowed away into darkness. Lord Arden pointed out how itscourse had been diverted and made to run down underground to the sea.
"We might let it come back to the moat," said Edred. "It used to runthat way. It says so in the 'History of Arden.'"
"We must decide that later," said his father, who had a long bluelawyer's letter in his pocket.
