Black Bartlemys Treasure

Penfeather was at the casement, had whipped open the lattice and, pinning the intruder by the throat, thrust a pistol into his face all in a moment; and then I recognised Godby the peddler.

"Let be, Adam!" I cried, springing forward. "Let be, here's a friend!" Saying nothing, Penfeather thrust away the weapon, and gripping the little man in both hands, with prodigious strength jerked him bodily in through the window; which done, he clapped to the lattice and drawing the curtain stood fronting Godby grim-lipped.

"And now what?" says he softly.

"Lord!" gasped Godby, "Lord love me, but here's a welcome to a pal, here's the second pistol I've had under my nose this night--throttle me in a hayband else!"

"What d'ye seek?"

"My pal Martin, 'cording to his word."

"D'ye know this fellow, Martin?"

"Aye!" I nodded and told briefly how and where we had met.

"God-be-here Jenkins am I, master," said Godby, "and well beknown to Joel Bym as keepeth this house, strangle me else--ask Joel! And if you're Master Penfeather I've first, this here for ye, and second, a warning." And speaking, Godby drew a letter from the breast of his leathern jerkin.

"A warning?" says Penfeather, glancing at the superscription, "Against whom?"

"A black dog as goes erect on two legs and calls himself Gregory Bragg."

"You mean Lady Brandon's under-bailiff?"

"I do so. Well, he be no friend o' yourn, and what's more, he's hand and fist wi' others as be no friends o' yourn either, cut-throat sailor-men and black rogues every one."

"How d'ye know 'em for sailor-men?"

"By their speech, master--I was a mariner once--and moreover by a ranting, hell-fire chorus."

"Ha!" says Penfeather, shooting a glance at me. "A chorus, was it?"

"Aye, master, concerning murder and what not."

"And the words running like this-'Two on a knife did part wi' life And three a bullet took O! But three times three died plaguily A-wriggling on a hook O!'

Was that the way of it?"

"Smother me if it weren't!" quoth Godby, staring.

"Sit down, Godby, and tell me how you chanced on this," says Adam, seating himself at the table.

"Well, master, I happened to lie snug hid 'neath a heap o' straw--and for why, says you? Says I to you, by reason o' two lousy catchpolls as won't let poor Godby be. Now this straw chanced to be in my Lady Brandon's stables--and why there, says you? Says I to you, because these lousy catchpolls being set on poor Godby by this black dog Gregory, and him my lady's man, my lady's stables is the last place catchpolls would come a-seeking Godby. Well now, as I lie there I fall asleep. Now I'm a light sleeper and presently I'm roused by the sound o' your name, master."