round us--and all
that ever bore the name, except Sir Piers himself--who lies in state at
the hall--, are here--not one--mark what I say--not one male branch of
the house but has been suspected----"

"Of what?"

"Of murder!" returned the sexton, in a hissing whisper.

"Murder!" echoed Luke, recoiling.

"There is one dark stain--one foul blot on all. Blood--blood hath been
spilt."

"By all?"

"Ay, and _such_ blood! theirs was no common crime. Even murder hath its
degrees. Theirs was of the first class."

"Their wives!--you cannot mean that?"

"Ay, their wives!--I do. You have heard it, then? Ha! ha! 'tis a trick
they had. Did you ever hear the old saying?

_No mate ever brook would
A Rook of the Rookwood!_

A merry saying it is, and true. No woman ever stood in a Rookwood's way
but she was speedily removed--that's certain. They had all, save poor
Sir Piers, the knack of stopping a troublesome woman's tongue, and
practised it to perfection. A rare art, eh?"

"What have the misdeeds of his ancestry to do with Sir Piers," muttered
Luke, "much less with my mother?"

"Everything. If he could not rid himself of his wife--and she is a match
for the devil himself--, the _mistress_ might be more readily set
aside."

"Have you absolute knowledge of aught?" asked Luke, his voice tremulous
with emotion.

"Nay, I but hinted."

"Such hints are worse than open speech. Let me know the worst. Did he
kill her?" And Luke glared at the sexton as if he would have penetrated
his secret soul.

But Peter was not easily fathomed. His cold, bright eye returned Luke's
gaze steadfastly, as he answered, composedly:

"I have said all I know."

"But not all you _think_."

"Thoughts should not always find utterance, else we might often endanger
our own safety, and that of others."

"An idle subterfuge--and, from you, worse than idle. I will have an
answer, yea or nay. Was it poison--was it steel?"

"Enough--she died."

"No, it is not enough. When? Where?"

"In her sleep--in her bed."

"Why, that was natural."

A wrinkling smile crossed the sexton's brow.

"What means that horrible gleam of laughter?" exclaimed Luke, grasping
the shoulder of the man of graves with such force as nearly to
annihilate him. "Speak, or I will strangle you. She died, you say, in
her sleep?"

"She did so," replied the sexton, shaking off Luke's hold.

"And was it to tell me that I had a mother's murder to avenge, that you
broug