Five miles from Hurseton the began and did not end until they touched the coast. There were acres of mud and reeds and succulent grasses, with narrow waterways. In rainy weather this low-lying land—if it could be called so—almost disappeared under water, and in summer the poisonous white mists which caused fever and ague. The people who dwelt on the border of the of despond were rarely healthy, but they were attached to the neighborhood and refused to move to higher ground where they would have enjoyed better health. What was good enough for their fathers was good enough for them, was the argument upon which they based their refusal.  
The road from Hurseton changed where the marshes began to a causeway and ran solid and high across the towards the coast. Here it took a sudden turn, and passed through several fishing villages on its way to Market-on-Sea. And thence between hedges it passed to London, a road once more. Some distance from the curve an arm of the causeway ran for a quarter of a mile to Castle, which was built on a firm and elevated spot of ground, near a kind of which communicated with the sea. The sea itself was only distant half a mile, and a fine view of it could be obtained from the castle. Why the building should be called by so high-sounding a name, it is hard to say. It was simply a large stone house of two story, with a kind of tower at one end. , in the of Elizabeth, it had been a fort, and afterwards, falling into decay, had been used by smugglers for the storing of goods. In the reign of George III., the then Lord Conniston being disgusted with life, and anxious to himself from the gay world, in which he had glittered to the of his purse and health, had bought the property and there had lived and died. At that time the family several seats and a town house. But the Georgian Conniston preferred this unhealthy neighborhood, as least likely to attract his former friends. So no one visited him, and he lived and died a . Afterwards the castle was again, the successors of this lordly preferring to live in more healthy parts. But gradually the property had been sold bit by bit, until, when Dick, the present lord, inherited, nothing remained to him but Cove Castle and the few acres around. Also he possessed the family , which was the Church of St. Agnes at the village of Benstow, three miles away. It was strange that the members of the family should have to be buried in this lonely place, when they could have rested in some green churchyard in the Midlands. But, seeing that Cove Castle alone remained to their descendants, it was just as well that the former of the title had entertained this odd idea. The present Lord Conniston at least retained, out of the of the property, the vault wherein the of his forebears were laid.
 
When Conniston arrived at the castle he was met at the door by a gigantic female of ugliness, who answered to the name of Selina Moon. She was large enough to have earned an income by exhibiting herself in a , being over six feet, and ugly to shame even the witches in Macbeth. Had Mrs. Moon lived in the Middle Ages, she would assuredly have been put to death for sorcery, as her looks seemed hardly human. She had the frame of a grenadier and the voice of a drill . Her face was large and round and , from a long life in the midst of the marshes. A few grey hairs on her upper lip gave her a still more masculine look, and, indeed, the least observant would have taken her for a man in disguise. She wore a frilled cap, which surrounded her face like the rays of a sunflower, and wore a vivid red gown bound at the waist by a yellow scarf. Mrs. Moon loved bright colors, and , if one could judge from her black eyes and nose, had something of the gipsy in her. Not so far as wandering was concerned, though, for she rarely left the castle. This was because her great size, coupled with her love of finery, provoked comment from adults and insults from children whenever she ventured abroad.
 
This Amazonian female, from her height of six feet five, looked down on Conniston with a submissive air. She was as timid as a rabbit, the most harmless of her sex, and report went, that the late Mr. Moon, who had been almost a , had frequently beaten her in spite of her superior inches. However, the old man was dead, and for many a long day Mrs. Moon had lorded it over the one servant in the castle. But she still wore her submissive air, and when her master imperiously demanded a sight of the gentleman who was expecting him, led the way at once to an upper room.
 
"But I wouldn't take everyone," said Mrs. Moon in a thin, high voice like the midnight wind in a chimney. "He being wishful to keep hisself quiet. What have he done, my lord?"
 
"Nothing," said Conniston, . "He only came down here for a rest. Do you think he has robbed the bank?"
 
"There's worse things than robbing banks," remarked Mrs. Moon, shaking her frilled cap , "and the worse things is what he's done. And why shouldn't he tell me his name if he was a babe for ?"
 
"Didn't he do so when he arrived?" asked Conniston, halting on the landing with an anxious look.
 
"No, my lord, bless your heart! he didn't," said the giantess; "and but that he had your letter, which was as plain as print——"
 
"And was print," interpolated Dick, remembering his caligraphy adapted to the brains of Mrs. Moon.
 
"I shouldn't have let him in. But your lordship said he was to have the best room, and the best room he has, to say nothing of your lordship's clothes, he having arrived in tatters like a tramp, which he isn't from the princely looks of him. No one knows as he is here, he having asked me to say nothing. But Victoria——"
 
"What about her?" asked Conniston, rather sharply, for Victoria was a small servant, preternaturally sharp and curious.
 
"She's asking questions as to what he's doing here."
 
"Then, don't answer her questions."
 
"I don't," said Mrs. Moon, , "and but that she's so strong I'd her hard. But only Jerry could manage her, and, bless me! your dear lordship, he's earning his bread in London, though I haven't heard of him for months."
 
"He's not in the place I obtained for him," said Conniston, stopping at the door of the room indicated by the . "He's robbed the till and bolted."
 
Mrs. Moon was not all disturbed. "Just like his poor father, my second son," said she, shaking the frilled cap again. "He was a wonderful boy for money and never minded how he got it. Have they jailed Jerry?" she asked, with great .
 
Conniston could hardly help smiling at the calm way in which she took the report of her grandson's wickedness. "No, his master turned him out and gave him another chance."
 
"Bless and preserve your dear lordship, Jerry won't take no chance, as I always said, being advised by the cards. It's the gallers that boy will come to, and may I not be here to see him at the end of a rope, much as he may deserve it. Jerry's a bad 'un, for sure, and takes after my old man's side of the family, several having been choked by the lawr for thieving and murdering and otherwise taking their . Where is he now?"
 
"I don't know, Mrs. Moon. But if he comes here, don't you let him into the castle and don't you let him know that Mr.—Mr. Grant"—Dick gave Bernard a new name for the sake of concealment—"is here."
 
"Grant!" echoed Mrs. Moon. "But he don't look ."
 
"Never you mind what he is. You hold your tongue and make Victoria hold hers."
 
"Only Jerry can manage her," said Mrs. Moon, firmly, "me not being strong enough for such a tearing cat. If your lordship would speak yourself——"
 
"I'll see to it," interrupted Conniston, quickly. "I'm stopping here for the night, Mrs. Moon. Can you give me and Mr.—er—Grant a good dinner?"
 
"I'll cook it myself, Victoria being fond of burning things and her pastery being lead for heaviness. The wine your lordship knows——"
 
"Is there any of that port left?"
 
"Plenty, save what Jerry drank, he being fond of his glass."
 
"What! a boy of thirteen, Mrs. Moon!" said Conniston, seriously. "If you had Jerry in the mud years ago it would have been better for him and for you."
 
Mrs. Moon blew a gigantic sigh. "True enough, your lordship, seeing as he'll occupy a place in the of Horrors in the exhibition me and Moon saw in London. Ah, well, some of his grandfather's people were hanged and——"
 
Conniston waited to hear no more of this domestic Newgate's Calendar, but opened the door and entered the room.
 
It was a large, airy apartment, with two windows looking on to the shining expanse of the sea, and well furnished in an old-fashioned way. In a large grate a fire of logs was briskly burning, so that the atmosphere was less damp than in the other rooms of the castle. The furniture was all of black oak, and included a square table, a comfortable sofa which was up close to the fire, and several arm-chairs. Also there was a sideboard and a bookcase well supplied with volumes of works long since out of print. The hangings were of faded brocade, and the carpet was patched and mended. Here and there was valuable china and a few silver . The whole room looked comfortable and home-like, and rather in its faded and beauty.
 
"Where are you, Bernard?" asked Conniston, seeing the room was empty.
 
For answer a window curtain was drawn aside and came out, holding the heavy steel . "It's only you," he said, looking very pale. "I heard voices and myself behind the curtain. I expected you, but didn't know but what someone else might come. That servant suspects me."
 
"Not Mrs. Moon," said Conniston, pitying the haggard looks of his friend.
 
"No, Victoria. She is as sharp as a needle and—"
 
"Don't yourself, old boy," said Dick, taking Gore's hand and ............