“Then, there’s more nor a bit o’ smuggling along th’ Causeway, fro’ the Lancashire ports,” Eastwood suggested, tentatively; and again Emmason shook his head. “The person to inform of that is Cope,” he said. “True, true,” said Eastwood; and when again he spoke it was very slowly indeed. “The Law, ye say, doesn’t al’ays take plain speech; well, there’s another thing, that ye’d best not take official till ye know more.--Now and then th’ coin’s been tampered wi’.” “Are you sure the draught was from the door?” “Ay, ay; come a bit closer this way.--Now, if that’s so, ye ought to be informed; and supposing ye were to show some knowledge, as I might say, to the authorities--to interest ’em, like--then happen there’d be fewer letters wi’ this ‘Indeed?’ in ’em.” Emmason sat suddenly upright in his chair. “You cannot mean to suggest to me, James, that in the event of any evidence being produced against such person or persons and so forth--that I should ever think of disregarding such evidence?” Eastwood spoke with indescribable dryness--“I said information, not evidence,” he murmured; “it’s a rum thing, is th’ Law.” Emmason leaned slowly back again. He ceased to set his finger-tips together, and his eyes gazed steadily at the reflection of the candles in the polished table. Eastwood watched him furtively; Moon had not moved. The magistrate began to murmur, neither quite aloud nor quite to himself; and the expression on Eastwood’s face became one of deep abstraction. All the world is agreed that when a man’s musings are overheard the secrecy of them remains inviolable; it is a nicer point whether or not you may rule your conduct by the light of any information they may contain. Only by the acutest attention could John Emmason’s murmurings have been overheard; but they were something like this: “If it isn’t too late--if they’ll still listen to me--I could approach Cope before he gets too deep with Parker--yes, to show a little knowledge--ah!...” * * * * * Between Matthew Moon and the flagitious magistrate little love was lost, and Moon’s view of the case was laid before the Executive two days later, at a meeting in an upper room of the “Gooise” at Wadsworth. “I was jealous of it at first; I am more than jealous now. Listen,” he said with great earnestness. “A gauger without legs, that can’t knock about and keep an eye on things, what good is he? And that’s the sort they’ve sent to Horwick. Why, think ye? I’ve a wit o’ my own, with the fancy-work left out, and I know what it _might_ be.--Suppose he _wants_ us to make light of him, and to be the jest of every lad in the market-place, till we say, ‘Tut, it’s only Cope’; and then suppose he’s listening and hedge-creeping, and setting a knot here and a knot there, like poachers wi’ pheasants--what then?” “You go too fast,” said Monjoy. “It may be that Emmason’s being passed over; we’re not sure of that yet; but even to think it would cast John down a bit.”