The officer and his men had been gone for about an hour, and Susan had scarcely recovered from the shock the visit had caused her, when the door once more opened, and in walked Old Nettleby and his son, Joseph. They were apparently in high spirits and well pleased with themselves. Susan gazed at them with surprise, and with an indescribable thrill of fear, as Joseph closed and barred the outer door, whilst her father came and stood in front of her, the exultant look upon his face vanishing to give place to a strrn and angry expression, as seizing hold of her by the shoulder, he gripped it with his horny, muscular hand, exclaiming, “Now look me in the face, girl; and confess what hand you had in last night’s failure. I always thought you might be trusted a little bit.”
“And I can, father dear,” she faltered, “I would not have betrayed you for the world.”
“That’s all very fine,” interposed her brother, “but you would let that Coastguard chap wheedle it out of you, they couldn’t have found out in any other way.”
“Will you swear,” asked her father, “that you had no hand in it? I know you think yourself too religious to swear to a lie.”
He spoke the last words with a mocking sneer, as he released her shoulder from his grasp, yet remaining standing near, gazing steadfastly into her face.
“Readily, dear father,” she answered, “I swear I had nothing to do with your betrayal; but do you think it safe to remain here? The Revenue Officer has been here with a lot of soldiers, and looked all over the house.”
“Ha! ha! ha! We know all about that, don’t we Joe? If they looked int the old mill they might, perhaps, have seen something.”
“Were you there, father? I’m so glad they went away. They said – they said you had killed Will Hardisty, and thrown him into the sea. It isn’t true, is it father, dear?”
She could not ask the question without once more giving way to tears, as she endeavoured to read its effect on the stern countenance of her parent which seemed only to grow still more dark and wrathful, as he exclaimed, “Curse Hardisty, and the whole pack of sharks. If he has got his due, I’m glad of it.”
“But you surely would not kill him, father! Oh! tell me, say that he is not dead.”
“Silence, girl! And don’t mention his name if you want me to keep my temper.”
She dare not interrogate him any further, so bending over the table she buried her face on her arms, and gave free vent to her feelings, sobbing as though her heart would break, without awakening the slightest thrill of compunction in the breasts of her relatives.
At length the old man, thinking perhaps it would be bad policy to drive her too far, spoke again.
“Now look here, lass,” he said, in a somewhat softer tone, “don’t mention that fellow’s name again; I blame him for things going wrong last night, and will see you laid in the grave before I give you to him; but, whether or not, I know nothing about where he is now.”
Susan knew how useless it would be to pursue the subject any further at present, therefore she resolved to try to bear it and await the course of events.
Her father, seeing that she was somewhat calmer, then began to explain the plan he meant to adopt in order to escape any future search made by the Revenue officers. For this purpose the cellar previously referred to would serve admirably. As we have said, it was entered from a closet opening upon the kitchen, the entrance being a trap door in the floor, to cover which he had provided, for use in case of necessity, a false covering of boards fitting accurately to the walls of the closet, and corresponding with the flooring of the kitchen. It was so made as to be easily removed by Susan. Thus, when they were concealed in the cellar, she could replace the false bottom, and it would appear part of the kitchen floor, detection being almost impossible.
During the time the discussion had been proceeding between Susan and her father, Joe Nettleby had been busily employed in removing into the cellar a few articles of furniture which would be necessary to their comfort, and by the time his father had finished speaking the work was concluded, the cellar being a fairly comfortable and thoroughly secure hiding place, to which he immediately retreated along with the old miller, leaving Susan to adjust the false floor, and remove all traces of their presence.
The next few days were to the lonely girl a season of the most acute suffering. Not only was she miserable on account of the uncertainty attaching to the disappearance of her lover, but she also had to undergo the agony of fear caused by the hourly danger of discovery which threatened her relatives. They were necessarily exceedingly careful, never removing the false floor, excepting for a short period during the depth of night, in order to obtain a breath of the pure upper air, yet this scarcely lessened the weight of trepidation which oppressed her. She was forbidden to satisfy her doubts as to her lover’s fate or mention him in any way to her father, and after a little deliberation had thought it would perhaps be better to wait awhile, for she was conscious of the unmerited hatred entertained towards him by her malicious brother, and imagined that if any evil fate had really come to Hardisty on that eventful night, Joe’s triumph in the gratification of his revenge would lead him to boast of the event, and she would thus be made aware of the truth. nor was she mistaken, for one night when her father had ventured a short distance from the house, trusting to the darkness for security, and she was left alone with her brother, it was not long ere arrogance led him to beast of the events of the fight, and he revealed how Hardisty had undoubtedly been killed by her father, although it was apparent neither of them were concerned in or aware of the subsequent disposal of his body. It was on this occasion she also learnt how here elder brother Stephen had escaped with the smugglers on their boat; and how her father and Joe had evaded the officers until they had contrived to secrete themselves in one of the hiding places constructed in the old mill, from whence they had watched the arrival and departure of the searching party.
Although the report of Will Hardisty’s death was thus confirmed, her doubts were not entirely dispelled. She found it impossible to free her heart from the feeling that he was yet alive, and would eventually return. There were no apparent grounds for entertaining such a hope, and yet although she grieved fro him as one whose untimely death was undisputed, in the recesses of her heart there lingered a latent indescribably feeling that she must not despair.