!

* * * * *

It was nearly three hours later that Jim Dawlish the miller answered
Jeff Ironside's gruff morning greeting with an eager, "Have you heard
the news, sir?"

Dawlish was of a cheery, expansive disposition, and not much of the
village gossip ever escaped him or remained with him.

"What news?" demanded Jeff.

"Why, about the old Colonel up at the Place, to be sure," said Dawlish,
advancing his floury person towards the doorway in which stood the
master's square, strong figure.

"Colonel Elliot?" queried Jeff sharply. "What about him?"

Dawlish wagged a knowing head. "Ah, you may well ask that, sir. He
died--early this morning--quite unexpected. Had a fit or some'at. They
say it's an open question whether there'll be enough money to bury him.
He has creditors all over the county."

"Good heavens!" said Jeff. He drew back swiftly into the open air as if
he found the atmosphere of the mill oppressive. "Are you quite sure it's
true?" he questioned. "How did you hear?"

"It's true enough," said the miller, with keen enjoyment. "I heard it
from the police-sergeant. He says it was so sudden that there'll have to
be an inquest. I'm sorry for the widow and orphans though. It'll fall a
bit hard on them."

"Good heavens!" said Jeff again. "Good heavens!"

And then very abruptly he turned and left the mill.

"What's the matter with the boss?" asked the miller's underling. "Did
the Colonel owe him money too?"

"That's about the ticket," said Jim Dawlish cheerily. "That comes of
lending, that does. It just shows the truth of the old saying, 'Stick to
your money and your money'll stick to you.' There never was a truer
word."

"Wonder if he's lost much?" said the underling speculatively.

Whereupon Jim Dawlish waxed suddenly severe. He never tolerated idle
gossip among his inferiors. "And that's no concern of yours, Charlie
Bates," he said. "You get on with your work and don't bother your pudden
head about what ain't in no way your business. Mr. Ironside is about the
soundest man within fifty miles, and don't you forget it!"

"He wasn't best pleased to hear about the poor old Colonel though for
all that," said Charlie Bates tenaciously. "And I'd give something to
know what'll come of it."

If he had known, neither he nor Jim Dawlish would have got through much
work that morning.

CHAPTER V

A BARGAIN

It was nearly a fortnight after Colonel Elliot's death that