"Look here, Gabriel, what's in the wind?" he asked bluntly, while the preacher and he were taking a walk together one afternoon. Although the summer was well advanced now, Joe Strangeways, despite his ready acquiescence in the old witch's advice, had but lately summoned resolution enough to take him to Lawyer French's office. But his tongue had not been idle in the meanwhile. Gabriel was not the man to break any news gently, nor to beat about the bush; he lacked the guile. So he rested a steady eye on Griff, and--"They say that matters are wrong between you and Kate Strangeways," he said. Lomax met the preacher's eye squarely. "Do you believe their tales?" "I want not to. Lad, it would break my heart to believe it of you. Can you give me your word it's false?" "As false as the liar who set it abroad. You can believe it or not as you like; but we're free of that charge." Griff was hurt that the story was going abroad--hurt by a remembrance of his part in the scene which was responsible for it, hurt by the preacher's momentary doubt. "Forgive me, Griff; I might have known," said Gabriel Hirst, and accepted his friend's word for good and all. A night or two later, as Lomax was coming home from the moor, he saw Joe Strangeways go in at the Bull doorway; the oil-lamp at the corner showed an evil look on the quarrymaster's face. Without pause or hesitation, Griff followed him into the noisy public bar. There was a shuffling of feet, followed by a silence. "Strangeways, a word with you," said Griff, standing in the middle of the floor. Joe laughed, and never so much as glanced at his enemy. "Stand up, and come over here." Still the quarrymaster did not look up, and Lomax crossed the floor. "You're a heavy weight to lift, and I'd rather you came without fetching; but----" Joe abandoned his defiant attitude on a sudden; he remembered that evening when Griff had laid him prone, with his feet on the top, and his head on the bottom, step of the Bull doorway. He got up reluctantly, growling as he went. Griff set him with his face to the company. "You have heard strange tales of me lately, neighbours?" A subdued hum was the only answer. "They came from Joe Strangeways here, if I'm not mistaken. Speak up, Joe! What have you got to say by way of proof?" "Hannah see'd wi' her own een----" began Joe, then stopped. Lomax was so confoundedly cool about it all. "Can you swear to that? Or am I right in guessing that Hannah lied to you, and taught you the lie pat off?" This new suggestion staggered Joe's muddled wits; his knees shook under him, and he could make no answer. Griff waited for a space, nodding meanwhile at the landlord, who had come to the door to hear what was going on. "Then I think I needn't keep you any longer, friends," he laughed at length. "Landlord, drinks round; it's thirsty work watching a liar try to moisten his tongue."