large letters, "Sir James de la Molle. Honham Castle, 1611." Nor was
this all. The first sheets of the Bible, which was one of the earliest
copies of the authorised version, were torn out, and the top corner
was also gone, having to all appearance been shot off by a bullet, a
presumption that a dark stain of blood upon the cover and edges
brought near to certainty.

"Poor gentleman," said Harold, "he must have had it in his pocket when
he was shot. Where did you find it?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said Ida, "in fact I have no doubt of it. I found
it when I was a child in an ancient oak chest in the basement of the
western tower, quite hidden up in dusty rubbish and bits of old iron.
But look at the end and you will see what he wrote in it to his son,
Edward. Here, I will show you," and leaning over him she turned to the
last page of the book. Between the bottom of the page and the
conclusion of the final chapter of Revelations there had been a small
blank space now densely covered with crabbed writing in faded ink,
which she read aloud. It ran as follows:


"/Do not grieve for me, Edward, my son, that I am thus suddenly
done to death by rebel murderers, for nought happeneth but
according to God's will. And now farewell, Edward, till we shall
meet in heaven. My monies have I hid and on account thereof I die
unto this world, knowing that not one piece shall Cromwell touch.
To whom God shall appoint, shall all my treasure be, for nought
can I communicate./"