"I'd no choice but to tell 'e," she said.
Gray Michael's eyes were on the picture and utter astonishment appeared in
them.
"Why! 'tis Joe Noy's ship. Us seed her off the islands, outward bound! He
might 'a' gived it her hisself surely?"
"But t'other thing; the money. Count them notes. Noy never gived Joan
them."
He spread the parcel, counted the money, and sat back thunderstruck.
"God in heaven! A thousan' pound, an' notes as never went through no dirty
hands neither! What do it mean?"
"How should I tell what it means? I found the whole fortune hid beneath her
smickets. Lard knaws how she comed by it. What have the likes o' she to
give for money?"
"What do 'e mean by that?" he blazed out, rising to his feet and clinching
his fists.
"Ax your darter. Do 'e think I'd dare to say a word onless I was sartain
sure? You'd smash me, your own wife, if I weer wrong, like enough. I ban't
wrong. Joan's wi' cheel or I never was. Maybe that thraws light on the
money, maybe it doan't. I did pray as it might 'a' comed out to be her man
at sea. But you'll find it weern't. God help 'e, Michael, my heart do bleed
for 'e. Can 'e find it in 'e to be merciful same as the Lard in like case,
or--?"
He raised his hand to stop her. He was sitting back in his chair with a
face that had grown gray even to the skin, with eyes that looked out at
nothing. There was a moment's silence save for the tall clock in the
corner; then Tregenza brushed beads of water off his forehead and dried his
hand on his trousers.
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