"Maybe--it's a gay canny hour, I reckon," said the landlord. He pulled at a long pipe as he spoke, and his face, which was flushed, wore an impudent smile. "I have to catch the five-o'clock train," Hugh answered. "To London?" One cheek was twisted into numerous wrinkles. "I said the five train," said Hugh, sternly. "Can you do it?" "I's niver said nay--it'll be three half-crowns." Hugh put half a sovereign on the counter. "Let it be sent at half past four promptly. "To the Ghyll?" The twist of the cheek was a shade less perceptible. "To the pit-brow." The parlor door opened again, and Natt stood on the threshold. The stableman's sleepy eyes awakened to a knowing twinkle. Then his flat face disappeared, and a thin titter mingled audibly with the clamor within. In another moment the door was thrown wide open, and Drayton came slouching out. His hair fell back over his forehead, from which his hat was tipped back. A cigar was perched between his teeth; the tips of his fingers were thrust into his waistcoat pockets. "Come in; I've summat to show you," he said. Hugh did not stir, but he lifted his head and looked into the room. Half a score of the riff-raff of the dale were seated amid clouds of smoke. On the wooden mantel-shelf above the wide ingle a large book stood open, and the leaves fluttered with the wind that came through the door. "I hain't forgotten what you said long ago about the parson's book," said Drayton, "so here it is, and a mighty valuable thing I call it. You thought to frighten me with it, but bless yer soul, I like it, I do. Listen." Drayton stepped back into the room, turned the leaves, and began to read in a lusty tone: "1847.--November 18.--Thomas said Allan was fresh from Scotland, being Scottish born, and that his wife was Irish, and that they had a child called Paul, only a few months old, and not yet walking." It was the parson's diary. "That's good enough, ain't it, Master Hugh Ritson?" said Drayton, with an ungainly bow, and a vast show of civility, followed instantly by a sidelong leer at his cronies about him. Hugh Ritson held himself stiffly, and merely said: "Where did you get it?" At this question there were sundry snorts and titters and muttered responses from the men at the tables. Hugh's eyes passed over them with a steely glance. "Stolen it, I suppose," he said quietly. "Ay," said Drayton, "and a neat job too. Natt 'ticed away the Methodee man while I borrowed it." Drayton seemed to be proud of his share in the transaction, and his friends laughed loudly at the adroit turn he had given to the matter. Natt's drowsy eyes were preternaturally bright at that great moment. Hugh Ritson's forehead darkened with ire. "This is your gratitude to the clergyman," he said. Sundry further snorts and sniggers went round the tables.