LUCKILY Matthew Musgrave, who had given Wilfred permission to go, asked no questions beyond inquiring whether he had settled things to his satisfaction.

“I had some difficulties,” said Wilfred, “but everything is all right now.”

Wilfred lodged with Musgrave, but they would often both come round to the hostelry where Ian was. On one of these occasions a number of men were seated round the fire with tankards of ale, when a big burly fellow came in and asked mine host to draw him a tankard. Catching sight of Matthew, he went up to him and clapping him on the back, he asked how things were going.

“Well enough, thank you, Andrew, and how is all with you, now that you have settled down near the old place again?”

“Oh, not so badly; it is harder work than at Holwick, but it’s good being near one’s own folk.”

Ian started slightly at the name of Holwick, but no one noticed and he guessed that this must be Andrew Woolridge. He waited a moment and then cautiously entered the conversation. “Where is Holwick?” he questioned.

218

“It’s not very far south from here,” said Andrew, “on the Tees a few miles from Middleton.”

“What were you doing there?” asked Ian.

“Oh, I was working at Holwick Hall, Master Richard Mowbray’s place.”

“What sort of a place was that?”

“A fine big place, but they had not the money that the family used to have.”

“What were they like?” inquired Ian.

“Yes, tell us something about them,” said Matthew; “you have never told us much.”

“Oh, they were all right. Master Mowbray was excellent and so were the young mistresses, but Mistress Mowbray herself was a tartar.”

“Was that why you left?” asked little Wilfred.

“Well, no, not exactly,” said Andrew. “I had a bit of a quarrel with them. These things will happen, you know”; and he laughed. “In fact, now that I think over it, I believe they were in the right. They were decent people, but queer in some ways, and so I thought I had better shift over here.”

“What was the quarrel about?” asked Matthew.

“Oh, that is too long a story; but I thought they should supply me with enough corn for the winter and they were not willing. Maybe I wanted too much; anyhow I came away, but I am sorry sometimes too.”

“Why?” said Ian.

“Well, if you must know I was sorry for the little mistress, Aline Gillespie, who lived with them. She and I did not get on very well; but Mistress Mowbray treated her like a dog. Mistress Aline, though, did me a good turn once, when I got into trouble, and somehow219 I would have liked to do her a good turn too, by way of paying back. I do not like being in any one’s debt. But there, I make mistakes like most of the rest of us. What do I owe you?” he said, turning to the innkeeper. “It’s time I was going.”

Andrew settled his score and was just leaving when another man entered.

“Hullo, Andrew,” said the newcomer, “whither away in such haste? Come back, man,” and then he added something in a low voice in which Ian distinctly caught the word “Holwick.”

This was a strange coincidence, Ian thought, to meet two people within a few minutes who both knew Holwick and he wondered who the newcomer might be. He had not long to wait.

The stranger turned to the innkeeper and said, “Timothy, man, I’m back again; you’ve got a place for my pack-horses for the night, I hope.”

“There’s always room for old friends,” said the innkeeper.

“Is there anything you’ll be buying yourself?” asked the stranger. “Faith, man, but I’ve some fine things, but you’re getting that set up in Carlisle that a man who only brings goods from Flanders and Italy and Persia and India, to say nothing of the latest novelties from London, is hardly likely to please you. But I’ve got some rugs now that would just stir your heart. You never saw the like. I have just refused 300 florins for one of them, but I’ll let an old friend have it for that price.”

“Oh, stop your gammon, Walter,” said the innkeeper. “You need not tell me your tales. If there’s220 anything good and cheap, I may take it, but I do not want any of your flowery word fancies.”

“Odds bodikins! mine host is very plain spoken,” rejoined Walter, “but come along, sirs, what do you want?” addressing the little group, and he unrolled a bundle as he spoke.

Although Walter made the most of them, his wares really were thoroughly good stuff, and he had a happy taste in making his selections; consequently he always did good business wherever he went, and it was rumoured that he had a pretty pile laid by for a rainy day.

He sold a few things to those present and was rolling up the bundle, when Ian caught sight of a singularly beautiful silver buckle of admirable design and workmanship. It was of a superior class to most of the trinkets that the packman had with him. He said nothing at the time but waited for a more favourable opportunity, as the packman was staying for the night.

In the evening Ian and the packman were seated alone at the fire. Ian looked around carefully, the door was shut, so he decided that he might broach the subject of Holwick.

“I suppose you travel far,” he said.

“Yes, Master Mitchell, I cover the length of the country once every year, but I work mainly in the north between here and York.”

“Are you going to York now?”

“Well, I expect to do—after a time; but I am going to Hexham and Newcastle and Durham and shall then work my way up the Wear and down the Tees and probably up Wensley dale.”

“Do you know Upper Teesdale?”

221

“Why, yes, but it’s an out of the way place. Yet, do you know,—many of these out of the way places are my best customers. When I was last there I sold a large quantity to Master Richard Mowbray of Holwick Hall.”

“You know them then?”

“In a business way, yes,” said Walter.

“There’s a little girl that is living there, that I know slightly,” said Ian.

“What, Mistress Aline Gillespie! the bonniest child I ever saw in my life. I shall never forget that child, although I have only seen her once. ’Sdeath, man, she has the face of an angel and the soul of one too, beshrew me if she has not.”

“Well, she comes from my country, although I cannot say that I have any extended acquaintance with her any more than you have.”

“I am sorry for that bairn,” said Walter, lowering his voice............