Part 33 (1/2)

”Madam,” said he, ”you may put this young gentleman to bed, and the sooner the better. He has lost a large sum of money, which I am fairly confident I can recover for him without his help; and your parish--which is also mine--has lost its character, and this also I propose to recover.

But to that end I must require your excellent husband to fetch out his trap and drive me with all speed to Squire Granville's.” He paused, and added, ”We are in luck to-night undoubtedly; but I fear I can promise him no such luck as to meet a hea.r.s.e and headless driver on the way. . . .

One moment, Mr. Menhennick! Have you such things as pen, ink and paper, and a farm-boy able to ride?”

”Certainly I have, sir.”

”Then while you are harnessing your nag, I'll drop a line to the riding-officer at Polperro; and if after receipt of it he allows a single fis.h.i.+ng-boat to leave the harbour, he'll be sorry--that's all.

Now, sir--Eh? Why are you hesitating?”

”Well, indeed, your reverence knows best; and if you force me to drive over to Squire Granville's, why then I must. But I warn you, sir, that he hunts to-morrow; and if, begging your pardon, you knew the old varmint's temper on a hunting day in the morning--”

”Hunts, does he? D'ye mean that he keeps a pack of hounds?”

”Why, of course, sir!”

Farmer Menhennick's accent was pathetically reproachful.

”G.o.d forgive me! And I didn't know it--I, your rector! Your rebuke is just, Mr. Menhennick. And this Church of England of ours--I say it with shame--is full of scandals. Where do they meet to-day?”

”Four-barrow Hill, your reverence.”

”Oh, no, they don't. On that point you really must allow me to correct you. If they meet at all, it will be at--what d'ye call it?-- Cann's Gate.”