CHAPTER XIII
THE SPOILS OF SACRILEGE
Until that moment I had not thought much about the reason of my presence at Blyth—I had, at any rate, thought no more than that Scarterfield had merely come across some writing which he found it hard to decipher. But one glance at the documents which he placed in my hands showed me that he had accidentally come across a really important find; within another moment I was deeply engrossed, and he saw that I was. He sat silently watching me; once or twice, looking up at him, I saw him nod as if to imply that he had felt sure of the importance of the things he had given me. And presently, laying the documents on the table between us, I smiled at him.
"Scarterfield!" I said. "Are you at all up in the history of your own country?"
"Couldn't say that I am, Mr. Middlebrook," he answered with a shake of his head. "Not beyond what a lad learns at school—and I dare say I've forgotten a lot of that. My job, you see, has always been with the hard facts of the actual present—not with what took place in the past."
"But you're up to certain notable episodes?" I suggested. "You know, for instance, that when the religious houses were suppressed—abbeys, priories,
157
