“What’s the matter?” I asked. “What d’you want?”

“Nothing much. I only want to ask you something⁠—something the others needn’t hear.”

“Well, what do you want me to tell you? I must go upstairs, you know.”

“You know, don’t you, whose orchard that is by the mill on the corner?” said Frank softly.

“No, I don’t know; I think it’s the miller’s.”

Frank had wound his arm round me, and he drew me quite close to him, so that I had to look up directly into his face. His look boded ill, he smiled maliciously, and his face was full of cruelty and power.

“Now, kid, I can tell you whose the garden is. I have known for a long time that the apples had been stolen, and I also know that the man said he would give two marks to anyone who would tell him who stole the fruit.”