could be
if he set himself up for an enemy.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

CRYSTAL, BUT NOT CLEAR.

Tom Dinass did not come back for the money Colonel Pendarve had ordered
to be paid him, but he started off the very next day, as if he had
shaken the Ydoll dust from off his feet, and made for the Plymouth road.

The news was brought to Sam Hardock at the mine by Harry Vores, and Sam
chuckled and rubbed his hands as he went and told the two lads.

"Gone, and jolly go with him, Mr Gwyn, sir. We're well quit of him. I
was going to warn you to keep Grip always with you, for I have heared
say that he swore he'd have that dog's life; but perhaps it was all
bounce. Anyhow he's gone, and I'm sure I for one shall feel a bit
relieved to be without him."

Gwyn said very little, but he thought a great deal for a few minutes
about how much better it would have been if Sam Hardock had treated
Dinass with a little more amiability. He quite forgot all about the
matter for three days, and then he had fresh news, for Sam Hardock came
to him chuckling again.

"It's all right, sir," he said.

"What is--the pumping?"

"Tchah!--that's all right, of course, sir; I mean about Tom Dinass.
Harry Vores' wife has just come back from staying at Plymouth, and she
saw Tom Dinass there. He won't come back here. Do you know, sir, I've
got a sort o' suspicion that he broke Grip's legs."

"Eh! Why do you think that?" said Gwyn, starting. "Did anybody suggest
such a thing?"

"No, sir; but he always hated the dog, and he might have done it, you
know."

"Oh, yes, and so might you," said Gwyn, testily.

"Me, sir?"

"Yes, or anybody else. Let it rest, Sam. Grip's legs are quite well
again."

"That's what you may call snubbing a chap," said Hardock to himself as
he went away. "Well, he needn't have been quite so chuff with a man; I
only meant--Well, I am blessed!"

Sam Hardock said "blessed," but he looked and felt as if it were the
very opposite; and he hurried back to the office where Gwyn had just
been joined by Joe, who had been back home to see how his father was
getting on, for he was suffering from another of his fits.

Hardock thrust his head in at the door, and without preface groaned
out,--

"You'd better go and chain that there dog up, sir," and he nodded to
where the animal he alluded to had made himself comfortable on the rug.

"Grip? Why?" said Gwyn.

"He's back again, sir."

"Who is?" said Gwyn, though he fel