pay; he would hurt Alston
through her, and hit her hard at the same time. He would stay here at
Little Langbourne.

"Buddesby, sir?" said the waiter. "Yes, sir. Mister John Everard's place
about a quarter of a mile beyond the village. Very interesting old
'ouse, sir, one of the best farms hereabouts. Mr. Everard's a well-to-do
gentleman, sir, old family, not--"

"Oh, go away!"

The waiter withdrew. "Anyhow," he thought, "he got it all right last
night, and serve him right. Law! what a mess 'e were in when he came
in."

A quarter of a mile beyond the village. Slotman nodded. He would go. He
remembered that Alston had said something last night about this man
Everard, had suggested all sorts of things might happen to him, Slotman,
if he communicated in any way with Everard.

"Anyhow I shall tell him, and unless he is a born fool he will soon get
quit of her. By thunder! I'll make her name reek, as I told her I would.
I'll set this place and Starden and half the infernal country talking
about her! If she shews her face anywhere, she'll get stared at. I'll
let her and that beast Alston see what it means to get on the wrong side
of a chap like me."

A quarter of a mile beyond the village. Thank Heaven it was no further.

The church bells had ceased ringing, from the church itself came the
pleasant sounds of voices. The village street lay white in the sunlight
with the blue shadows of the houses, a world of peace and of beauty, of
sweet scenes and of sweet sounds; and now he had left the village behind
him.

"Is this Buddesby, my man? Those gates, are they the gates of Buddesby?"

"Aye, they be," said the man. He was a big, gipsy-looking fellow, who
slouched with hunched shoulders and a yellow mongrel dog at his heels.

"The gates of Buddesby they be, and--" He paused; he stared hard into
Slotman's face.

"Oh!" he said slowly, "oh, so 'tis 'ee, be it? I been watching out for
'ee."

"What--what do you mean?"

"I remember 'ee, I do. I remember your grinning face. I've carried it in
my memory all right. See that dawg?" The man pointed to the lurcher.
"See him: he's more'n a brother, more'n a son, more'n a wife to me.
That's the dawg you run over that day, and you grinned. I seen it--you
grinned!" The man's black eyes sparkled. He looked swiftly up the road
and down it, and Slotman saw the action and quivered.

"I'll give you--" he began. "I am very sorry; it was an accident. I'll
pay you for--"

But the man