When approaching a problem Peter Norcot rarely made any error in his point of attack. By nightfall upon the day of Grace\'s promise he had left Fox Tor Farm, and only she knew the reason. But to Plymouth Peter did not go. He returned home, visited his safe and took from it the sum of one thousand pounds in notes. Any appeal to authority on behalf of John Lee must be vain. He had been sentenced to death for high treason, and four days separated him from the gallows. Norcot knew that the man would be hanged at Exeter, and that he was to leave Plymouth for that city under a military escort two days after his trial. He had learned the route of march and the constitution of the company responsible for the prisoner\'s safe custody. The journey would take two days, and the half-way house stood near Ashburton. A non-commissioned officer commanded, and upon that man Peter Norcot centred his hopes. Quarters for the company were already taken at Westover Farm, outside Ashburton; and here the wool-stapler designed to appear in good time. During the hours of that night he doubted little but that he would achieve his purpose.
Meanwhile a lesser man—one Thomas Putt—commands undivided attention. When Kekewich returned to the servants\' hall after announcing tea to Grace and her lover, he found Mrs. Beer there. To them entered Tom with a fine salmon; but no voice of approval rewarded his achievement, for Kekewich was full of the tragic thing he had just heard.
"What a light it do throw!" cried Dinah Beer. "Poor tibby lamb; an\' the hunger of that dreadful wolf for her! Now he\'ll get Lee off—see if he don\'t—though he\'s got to ax King George."
"If Lee knowed the price, I\'m thinking as \'twould be more than Norcot could do to free him," said Kekewich. "I was for this marriage heart an\' soul, so much as master; but he\'ve changed since she runned away; an\' so have I. I\'m generally of his mind in secret, though I never tell the man so."
"\'Tis too dreadful to think of," declared Dinah. "Poor dear Jack!—yet the price of his getting off be dreadful too."
"\'Twill kill her to marry him—honest gentleman though he be," said Kekewich. "An\' she\'ll do it. If Mr. Norcot gets Lee off, she\'ll take him without another murmur."
Then Tom Putt spoke. He knew a great deal about the matter of Lee, for he had been permitted to see John at Prince Town and had afterwards got a message to him, through Sergeant Bradridge, that Grace Malherb was safe. To the sergeant fell Lee\'s custody, and Putt knew that on the morrow his uncle Septimus Bradridge would convey John from Plymouth a day\'s march to Westover Farm.
Apart from any question concerning Grace, Tom had already determined to see his old companion once again, and he knew exactly where the soldiers would make their noontide halt upon the following morning. Now his mind quickened and he showed a spark of the genius that had so often been wasted in successful poaching on Dart. First Mr. Putt begged Kekewich to give him a few moments of private conversation, and then, when he and the old man were closeted together, John Lee\'s friend explained a part of his purpose.
"My uncle\'s a fierce warrior, but he\'ve always showed a great liking for me, and I know he\'ll not stand between me and a word or two with Jack. The day\'s journey is to be broken where Dean Burn flows down out o\' the woods between Buckfastleigh and Dean Prior. \'Tis a spot where two roads meet, and there\'s a bridge there. Now I can get to that place afore they do; an\' if I have speech with Jack Lee, \'twill put iron into his will."
"You might see Norcot?"
"I shall not. Norcot will tackle my Uncle Septimus to-morrow night at Westover. An\' he\'ll find my uncle\'s a man as wants a tidy mort o\' money to go behind his duty. As to Norcot, he\'ll get Lee off, sure\'s fate; for Jack would run like any other chap to save his neck. But not if he knowed what price Norcot be getting for saving him. The gentleman may override Sergeant Bradridge, but he won\'t override Jack Lee."
"You\'ll want a bit of money, won\'t \'e, to get leave to talk to him?"
"Ess, I shall," said Putt. "That\'s what I wanted to say. A pound will go a long way with a common sojer, but not with my uncle. I wouldn\'t dare for to offer him small money. I shall just ax if I may speak to an old friend afore he\'s choked off; and I shall offer all you can let me have, an\' hope for my mother\'s sake as Uncle Septimus will let me get a few private words."
"I can give \'e twenty pounds," said Kekewich, "an\' that\'s every penny I\'ve got by me. Money\'s scarce just now."
Putt nodded gloomily, because the elder touched a thorny subject. For the first time since Fox Tor Farm was built, had the master of it asked his men upon pay day to let their wages stand over for a week.
"I\'ve not got a farden. Gived my maid to Chagford every penny," confessed Mr. Putt.
The old man nodded and produced his cash in the shape of two notes.
"I won\'t ax you your plans, Thomas, for you wasn\'t born yesterday. \'Tis a great source of strength that Sergeant Bradridge is your relation. Be witty about it; an\' if John Lee can save her by taking his bad fortune like a man—well, so much the better, though \'tis a poor come along of it for him, poor chap."
Tom pouched the money carefully, but made no comment on the other\'s words.
"I\'ll take my uncle this here fish I\'ve catched," he said, "for he\'s a man fond of pretty eating, and was brought up on Dart salmon. And I shall leave at cock-light to-morrow morning."
"Good luck go with you. Ban\'t often I wish anybody that; but this time I will for the maiden\'s sake. An\' her good fortune will be his bad, poor blid! unless \'tis good fortune to die in a good cause."
"Us never knows what\'ll happen," declared Putt. "An\' whether or no, \'tis bad fortune to be hanged, for it stops a man\'s usefulness."
The conversation ended with this just reflection, and very early next morning Thomas went his way. Mrs. Beer provided him with plentiful supplies of food and, upon his own account, he visited the tool-shed and work-loft before setting out. With him he carried a stout stick, and his salmon as a gift for Sergeant Bradridge.
He struck into Dean Woods while it was yet early, then called at a farm hard by, where he was known, partook of a pint of beer and had some conversation with the farmer\'s son. Presently, seated with this lad in front of a load of manure, Putt jogged onwards and proceeded to a cross-road not far distant from Robin Herrick\'s old home at Dean Prior. Here ran Dean Burn from its fountains on Dartmoor; and to Mr. Putt this stream, now in full torrent after rain, offered interesting problems. He examined the waters with a professional eye, and his friend upon the cart laughed at him.
"Ever thinking of fish; even at such a time as this!"
"No, by Gor!" answered Tom. "I\'m just wondering how shallow it runs to the bridge yonder. Lend me your whip an\' I\'ll find out."
He proved to his satisfaction that there was deep water at hand, and then, while still in earnest conversation with the young farmer, Thomas heard a tramp of feet and saw the troops advancing. Thereupon his friend drew his cart and its burden into a side path by the stream, and Putt, with the salmon well displayed, advanced to meet Sergeant Bradridge. The halt sounded as he approached. The troops grounded their arms and, weary and hungry after a march of fifteen miles, pulled food from their knapsacks and scattered in comfort by the grassy way. For drink, the river rolled at their feet.
Sergeant Bradridge himself had selected a comfortable spot upon a milestone, with a bank behind it for his back, just as Tom appeared. All the soldiers were now at ease, save two sentries, who kept guard over the prisoner. Lee was handcuffed, but his legs were free, and he had walked with his guards. He sat now, nodded and smiled at Putt, and welcomed him gratefully. But Thomas held his nose high, walked past the prisoner, and treated Lee as one no longer to be recognised by self-respecting people.
"Morning, Uncle Sep. I knowed you was passing this way, so I took a half-holiday, an\' made bold to walk across the Moor."
The sergeant was an elderly man with a ruddy face, a pompous bearing, and a feeble, kindly mouth quite concealed under heavy moustaches.
"Tom, to be sure! Sit down an\' have a bite. \'Tis dooty, an\' a painful dooty. But us safeguards of the land have to do dirty work so well as clean work. That poor soul—well, but come to think of it, you knowed him better\'n ever I shall. \'Tis a strange world. Back along I had to march your master out of War Prison, \'cause Mr. Malherb got in a rage the day we found out about that hole under the walls; then I had to take this here poor soul down along to Plymouth; an\' now I be marching him to be hanged. Talk o\' wars! Us as stays at home have just as terrible dooties thrust upon us."
"You was always ready for anything. Nothing never puzzles you. My mother says that if an earthquake comed, you wouldn\'t run. But as for Jack Lee—well, I grant us liked him very well. But he turned traitor to please the women, an\' I\'ve done with him."
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