"I know not," said Bartholomew, "unless it be from the sycamore tree at
the opposite corner yonder by the old wall."
"Thou knowest the ground hereabout?" said the Doctor hastily.
"Peradventure I may," replied the other. "Being told aforetime of
treasure that was hidden, I have wandered often, at odd times, round the
garden."
"Lead the way, then; it may be this same Acer is the tree of which thou
speakest. Time passes, and I would not miss this lucky hour for all my
hopes of preferment."
Preceded by his guide, the Doctor soon came within range of a noble
sycamore that threw out its huge branches in all the pride of a long and
undisturbed occupation.
"'Nine with twice seven northerly, and Acer shall disappear.' Shall I
stride the ground so many steps, or is there a mystic and hidden
signification couched in these numbers?"
"I know not," said Bartholomew; "but we had best make the trial."
The Doctor, with great earnestness, began to stride out the number
northerly, but the sycamore did not disappear; its long bare boughs were
still seen throwing out their leafless and haggard extremities against
the lowering sky.
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