was safe
enough and could put a stop on his mouth when he pleased. Besides, John
Grimbal was not only unaware that the bee-keeper knew anything against
Blanchard, but had yet to learn that anybody else did,--that there even
existed facts unfavourable to him. Something, however, told Hicks that
mention of the common enemy would result from this present meeting, and
the other's last word brought the danger, if danger it might be, a step
nearer. Clement hesitated before replying to the question; then he
answered it.

"Chris Blanchard," he said shortly, "though that won't interest you."

"But it does--a good deal. I've wondered, some time, why I didn't hear
my own brother was going to marry her. He got struck all of a heap
there, to my certain knowledge. However, he 's escaped. The Lord be good
to you, and I take my advice to marry back again. Think twice, if she's
made of the same stuff as her brother."

"No, by God! Is the moon made of the same stuff as the marsh lights?"

Concentrated bitterness rang in the words, and a man much less acute
than Grimbal had guessed he stood before an enemy of Will. John saw the
bee-keeper start at this crucial moment; he observed that Hicks had said
a thing he much regretted and uttered what he now wished unspoken. But
the confession was torn bare and laid out naked under Grimbal's eyes,
and he knew that another man besides himself hated Will. The discovery
made his face grow redder than usual. He pulled at his great moustache
and thrust it between his teeth and gnawed it. But he contrived to hide
the emotion in his mind from Clement Hicks, and the other did not
suspect, though he regretted his own passion. Grimbals next words
further disarmed him. He appeared to know nothing whatever about Will,
though his successful rival interested him still.

"They call the man Jack-o'-Lantern, don't they? Why?"

"I can't tell you. It may be, though, that he is erratic and uncertain
in his ways. You cannot predict what he will do next."

"That's nothing against him. He's farming on the Moor now, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Where did he come from when he dropped out of the clouds to marry
Phoebe Lyddon?"

The question was not asked with the least idea of its enormous
significance. Grimbal had no notion that any mystery hung over that
autumn time during which he made love to Phoebe and Will was absent from
Chagford. He doubted not that for the asking he could learn how Will had
occupied himself; b