"An' who may that be, Mr. Strangeways?" queried Jefferson, ironically. "Tha'rt grown mighty sharp all on a sudden; for it takes a more nor ordinary sharp feller to fool Dave Jefferson." "That's as may be. It's Griff Lummax that's creeping, sly as a fox, up th' hillside." Three of the poaching set that foregathered at the Dog and Grouse were on the moor that afternoon, and Jack o' Ling Crag spoke up for his absent friend. "If that's all tha hes to tell us, Joe, tha mud as weel gang back th' way tha came. He's a proper set up chap, is Mr. Lummax, an' it's noan his breed that peaches on a mate." "Oh, ay, he's a grand un!" echoed Joe, with beery derision. "He prigged my wife, he did; an' a man that 'ull do that, 'ull do owt." "He did thy wife a sarvice, anyhow, I'm thinking," snapped Will Reddiough. They all laughed at that, and their laughter braced up Joe's wits to further effort. "Well, seeing's believing," he muttered. "Eh? Speak out, mon, if tha's getten owt to say." The little group was pressing close about him now; the sulkiness of his tones seemed to give added weight to his innuendo. "I war passing th' Bull one neet a while back----" began Joe. "Nay, lad, nay," put in Jack o' Ling Crag, with a mellow chuckle. "_Passing_, did'st say? It's not oftens _tha_ passes by a public, Joe." "An' I thowt as I'd turn in for a glass o' bitter," went on the quarrymaster, doggedly, not heeding the interruption. "There war no one i' th' back room, an' I stood waiting i' th' passage till somebody should come to sarve me. I heärd voices i' th' front bar, an' I fell to listening to 'em. One war Griff Lummax's, an' he war agate wi' telling all about these here sprees up o' Gorsthet Moor. I crept a-tip-toe an' peeped in at th' door; an' I see'd 'at t' other chap war a police inspector. Well, Lummax, he said as how he hed fooiled th' lot on ye, an' that it 'ud be an easy job to land ye all i' quad. Is that enow for ye, or mun I wend back th' way I came, an' say niver a word to this Lummax chap?" The poaching trio was silent, and the rest looked ominously black. "Is this gospel truth?" said Jefferson, at last. "Gospel truth, so help me God!" Joe answered. Griff Lomax, meanwhile, had topped the rise, and was sauntering easily towards them. They watched him cross the two hundred yards of heather that divided them; they listened to his cheery "Good-day," but answered never a word. He felt that there was trouble in the air. "What the deuce is the matter with you all? Do you think I'm a spy, or what?" he laughed. That emphasizing of what lay uppermost in the mind of each was an unlucky move for Griff. "Mebbe that's about the size of it," growled Jefferson. Lomax paused awhile. Then-- "What's all this nonsense about?" he demanded sharply. Jefferson, in his turn, halted before speaking. "Joe Strangeways slipped into t' Bull, Mr. Lomax, a neet or two back, without your hearing him. Ye'd best hearken to what he has to say."