"I was to give you this letter, sir, and to bring you this box, and to wait for an answer," said the man. "Did a gentleman called Jenkins send you?" George faltered, receiving the box with the dignity of an author taking back his rejected masterpiece. "That's right, sir. I was to get back as quick as I can, for the gentleman wants to catch a train. Here's the letter, sir; and I was to be sure and take back an answer." George hurried indoors, his knees wobbling; tore open the envelope and read: "It's worse than a falling birth rate, but the vases are fakes. I have examined them carefully with strong glasses and discovered marks which show beyond a doubt they are not more than a hundred years old. These pieces would deceive any amateur and quite a few experts: they fairly hocussed me till I turned on the glasses. This will make your soul sick, I guess, but you've still got Crampy. I won't say anything to queer your business; but take my advice and don't hawk the things about, or some other fellow may get notions. Your best chance is Crampy, right now, while he's innocent. The longer you keep the vases the more they'll smell. Kindly return shinplasters by bearer, and pile up my sympathy to your credit." George sprang to the box and wrenched off its lid; but a glance dispelled his suspicions. The vases had not been exchanged for local beauties; they had been returned undamaged but condemned. Crampy was honest, and Jenkins was genuine; and he himself had lost a fortune. "I don't want to gammon a decent fellow like Crampy, but I can't afford to lose a thousand pounds," George muttered, after the driver had departed with the banknotes. "I'll walk over to Brimmleton and send him a telegram. If it goes from here Mrs. Cann will talk all over the village. And on the way back I'll look in at Black Anchor, and try to find out what young Sidney is up to." Before starting he told Nellie of his intentions, which were still honourable; but the young lady was indifferent to the point of malice. "They are nothing to me, and the sooner they clear out of the place the better," she said firmly. "I'm going to give the lad a little friendly advice. The people are complaining that he's making Highfield more like London every day; and naturally they are getting angry about it," said George. "Oh, don't talk to me about it," cried Nellie. "Shall I talk to you when I come back?" "That will depend upon what you have to say." "It can't possibly be good news," said George cheerfully. "I knew Sidney was a bad egg the first time I saw him. He never took his eyes off my boots, and that's a sure sign of a nasty character."