With Peace it was far different. He hoped to win the girl; otherwise he would not have troubled himself so much about her, and it is likely enough that he would not have remained so long in the neighbourhood had it not been for her. After the robbery at the “Lion,” and the chase of Bandy-legged Bill, Peace endeavoured to ascertain who threw the missile into his window on that eventful night. He taxed several of the villagers with it, but they one and all denied in a most positive manner having given the timely warning. It afterwards occurred to him that it might be Nelly, and he mentioned his suspicions to her. She laughed, and after a little hesitation acknowledged that she was the culprit. She informed Peace that she was mistrustful of the gipsy, whom she had seen in her aunt’s strawberry ground with a strange gentleman, with whom he was conversing in almost a whisper. From the few words of the conversation that did reach her ears she was under the impression that a deep-laid plot was hatching; and afterwards, upon finding the gipsy had taken up his quarters at the “Carved Lion,” her suspicions were in a measure confirmed, hence it was that she had recourse to the little stratagem which was of such infinite service on the night of the attempted robbery. “You are a good girl, and are worth your weight in gold,” cried Peace, when Nelly had concluded. “Indeed, I don’t know what I should do without you.” He placed his arm round her neck, and drew her towards him. “There, get away, do!” exclaimed the girl, slipping out of his grasp. “I never knew a man so forward and impudent as you are.” “And I never knew a girl so uncertain and capricious as you are,” returned he; “so now we are even. But I say, Nell, darling――――” he was about to make an amorous speech, when the voice of the owner of the establishment was heard, and Nell said, quickly―― “There’s aunt calling me; I must indoors.” “But I want to speak to you――have something to say of the greatest importance.” “Some other time will do as well,” she returned, with a laugh. “Will you meet me to-morrow evening at the corner of Dennett’s-lane, and hear what I have to say?” “Perhaps.” “Nay, don’t say perhaps; you must come.” “Very well; I will, if possible,” and with these words the girl ran down the gravel walk and entered the house. It was in the evening of the day on which Aveline Gatliffe had paid a visit to the earl that Nelly had promised to be at the end of Dennett’s-lane. Peace anxiously awaited her appearance. He remained in his workshop silent and thoughtful. He was calm, but it was that sort of calmness which presaged a storm. To say the truth, he was getting tired of the quiet and respectable sort of life he had been of late leading. The old feeling of restlessness and yearning for adventure had come over him, and his mind was in a sort of chaos.