I remembered how indignant the
Oulton wherrymen had been when a gentleman offered them money for
saving his daughter's life. I had seen the man robbed, what else
could I have done? I could have done no less than tell him. I
resolved that I would refuse the gift when next I saw him.
At dinner that day, I was full of Mr. Jermyn, much to my uncle's
annoyance.
"Who is this Mr. Jermyn, Martin?" he asked. "I don't know him. Is
he a gentleman?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Do you know him, Ephraim?"
"No, sir. I know him by sight, sir. Gentleman who lives over the
way, Mr. Hyde."
"That's Mr. Scott's, though."
"No, sir. Mr. Jermyn's been there ever since February."
"But the house is empty."
"The lower floor is furnished, sir."
"Do you know anything of him? Do you know his man?"
"They say he's in the fruit way, sir. In the Spanish trade. His
men are Spaniards. They do say he's not quite to be trusted."
"Who says this?" my uncle asked.
"I don't like to mention names, sir," Ephraim said.
"Quite right. Quite right. But what do they say?"
"Very queer things goes on in that 'ouse," said Ephraim. "I don't
'ardly like to say. But they think 'e raises the devil, sir.
Awful noises goes on there. I seen some things myself there, as I
don't like to talk of. Well. I saw a black bird as big as a man
stand flapping in the window. Then I seen eyes glaring out at the
door. They give the 'ouse a bad name, sir; everyone."
"H'm," said my uncle.
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