the hands of her son John Haygarth, a very prudent and
worthy gentleman, and a credit to the Church of which he was a member.
He only died very lately, I believe, and must therefore have attained a
great age."

It is quite evident that Mr. Wendover had not seen the advertisement in
the Times, and was ignorant of the fact that the accumulated wealth of
Haygarths and Caulfields is now waiting a claimant.

I asked permission to see the register containing the entry of the
mysterious interment; and after the administration of a shilling to the
clerk--a shilling at Dewsdale being equal to half a crown in
London--the vestry cupboard was opened by that functionary, and the
book I required was produced from a goodly pile of such mouldy brown
leather-bound volumes.

The following is a copy of the entry:--

"On Thursday last past, being ye 19 Sep'tr, A.D. 1774, was interr'd ye
bodie off onne Matthewe Haygarthe, ag'd foure yeres, remoov'd fromm ye
Churcheyarde off St. Marie, under ye hil, Spotswolde, in this Co. Pade
forr so doeing, sevven shill."

After having inspected the register, I asked many further questions,
but without eliciting much further information. So I expressed my
thanks for the courtesy that had been shown me, and took my departure,
not wishing to press the matter so closely as to render myself a
nuisance to the worthy Wendover, and bearing in mind that it would be
open to me to return at any future time.

And now I ask myself--and I ask the astute Sheldon--what is the meaning
of this mysterious burial, and is it likely to have any bearing on the
object of our search? These are questions for the consideration of the
astute S.

I spent my evening in jotting down the events of the day, in the above
free-and-easy fashion for my own guidance, and in a more precise and
business-like style for my employer. I posted my letter before ten
o'clock, the hour at which the London mail is made up, and then smoked
my cigar in the empty streets, overshadowed by gaunt square stacks of
building and tall black chimneys; and so back to my inn, where I took a
glass of ale and another cigar, and then to bed, as the worthy Pepys
might have concluded.

CHAPTER III.

MR. GOODGE'S WISDOM.

_Oct. 5th_. My dreams last night were haunted by the image of gray-eyed
Molly, with her wild loose hair. She must needs have been a sweet
creature; and how she came amongst those prim fishy-eyed men and women
with absurd head-gear