John Lee had reached a supreme height of indifference to fortune even before his capture, condemnation and sentence. He awaited his end without concern, and only averted it at the instance of Thomas Putt. Afterwards, for mingled reasons, he carefully abstained from any intercourse with Fox Tor Farm. And thus it happened that he knew nothing of the supposed death and burial of his grandmother. The miser herself had gloated over the success of her enterprise as related by Mr. Cloberry, but Leaman was expressly directed by Lovey Lee to keep the truth a secret; and this he did, being well paid for his pains. Meantime the old woman\'s indignation grew that Maurice Malherb was not arrested and hanged.

"\'Tis a blackguard beast of a world," she told Leaman Cloberry. "One law for rich an\' one for poor; but if there\'s any justice left stirring in the land, us may live to see him dancing in the air outside of Exeter Gaol yet."

Now, after a period of most miserable seclusion in a shepherd\'s ruined cot near the secret sources of Dart, John Lee was to find himself again thrust into the affairs of Grace Malherb, and to thank God that he had been spared to do her further service.

It was not until Peter Norcot had returned from London, after a visit of three weeks\' duration, that Lovey Lee opened the new project to her grandson, and then, indeed, she approached it in a fashion so remarkable that one might have been stirred to admiration.

She returned late one night to their haunt, and plunged into a startling narrative which quickly roused John Lee from sleep.

"The wickedness of this world! Oh, Jack, if ever you go out among men again, an\' get safe off to America, as you hope, try an\' keep straight."

He turned over in his bed of dry heath and stared while his grandmother ate her supper. Only a streak of moonlight through the roof lighted their forlorn hiding-place.

"That\'s strange advice from your lips," he said.

"I know I\'ve been a bad old devil—nobody knows it better. But whose fault? The world\'s, not mine. An\' I\'m white to black compared to some of us."

"That\'s very comforting for you, I\'ll wager. But he must be a night-black colour that makes you look fair. Yet since you can mourn, \'tis well. Give back the Malherb amphora and I\'ll say you\'re the best woman in England."

"All in good time. Have you thought what that bit of glass has cost me? I can\'t change my god in a minute. For my god it be. But I\'m minded to alter my way of living—I swear it—after what I\'ve heard this night."

"Have you met the Devil himself then?"

"No—his right hand, Peter Norcot. I was just sitting by the wayside, full of wonder how I could get out of this evil an\' clear the country, an\' turn my fag end of life to good, when past he rode \'pon his great horse. \'\'Tis Lovey Lee!\' he cries out, for his lynx eyes remembered my face, even in moonlight. And the black spleen of him! His first thought was you! He\'s hopeful to see you hanged yet. \'Give him up an\' I\'ll give \'e five hunderd pound,\' he said. But I ban\'t sunk so low as that, though by your starting you seem to think so. I said I knowed nought about \'e. \'Leave that then,\' says he. \'You can help me in another job, and richly I\'ll reward you.\'

"Then he fell to telling \'bout Malherb an\' his darter. He\'m set there still—the black patience of him! An\' now his plan be to kindiddle her away altogether. He\'s plotting to get her under his own roof; and once there—oh Lord! even I—stone-hearted as I\'ve been till now—felt my inwards curdle to hear him an\' see the moonlight in his steel eyes! But I was so cunning as a viper an\' promised to help him if he\'d help me."

"What do you want of him?"

"He\'m going to change all my gold money into paper, an\' he\'m going to buy my watches an\' snuff-boxes an\' teaspoons, as I can\'t take with me. Then, that done, I\'ve promised to help with the maiden. She\'m to meet him \'pon Saturday week, an\' if she do, home she\'ll never go no more till her name be Grace Norcot."

"And you promised to help in that?"

"I didn\'t dare refuse; but I\'m going to play him false. I\'ve done with wickedness. These latter days have drove the fear of God into me. I wouldn\'t help that tiger, not for another amphora; an\' I be going to prove it by taking the side of right."

"She must be warned."

"I know it; an\' that\'s your work. Us can\'t go to Fox Tor Farm; but you\'ve got to see her by hook or by crook, else \'tis all over with her."

"I might write."

"You must write. \'Tis the only way. An\' since she taught \'e to write, she\'ll know your penmanship an\' tru............