'Well, that is frank!' said Zita, huffed. 'You called me "Dear Zita," just now—I suppose it is "Dear Kainie" as well.' 'My dear Zita'— 'Perhaps you will keep your "dears" for her, or any one else who cares to have them and share them with others. I do not wish to be so termed. I refuse to be so called.' She turned to leave. He caught her by the arm. 'Do not be cross. I cannot explain matters now. It is all right. I did not mean to offend you.' But Zita would not speak. She hastened to the house with pouting lips, burning cheeks, and sunken eyes. As she entered, she encountered Drownlands, in his slouched hat, and wearing a long great-coat in place of his usual tiger-skin. He held a whip in his hand, and had a pistol sticking out of his breast pocket. 'Are you going out?' asked the girl. 'Yes. You are in no further danger. The rabble will not return. I shall follow them.' 'Why so?' 'To bring all I can to the gallows. I shall watch every man I know, and see what his proceedings are. I shall take account of every act of lawlessness. They have not had my twenty pounds for nothing. I shall get some satisfaction in return. In Ely folks will be too much alarmed, the faces will be too strange for there to be recognition of offenders. That is my work. I shall witness against them, man by man, beginning with my own labourers who have revolted against me. I have purchased the right with my twenty pounds—a life for every pound—ha! ha!' Then, looking steadily into Zita's eyes, he said in a low, bitter tone, 'I shall begin with Mark Runham.' 'Mark?' echoed the girl. 'He has done no harm.' 'Has he not? He entered my house uninvited. He acted for the rioters. He was their mouthpiece. He extorted money from me for them.' He struck his boot with his whip, strode faster, then turned on the doorstep and said, 'If not the gallows for Mark, then transportation. I am well rid of him. See what it is for a man to venture himself in my way.' Zita was startled. What had Mark done to incur the penalties of the law? Was it conceivable that Drownlands was in earnest? He made idle menaces. He had threatened to string the rioters to every bough of his five ash trees. He had not done it, and he could not do it. His present menace was as empty. She watched the master ride forth from the stable when he had saddled his horse himself. No man was left on the premises to attend on him. The boy, Tom Easy, was too frightened to be of service, and Drownlands was impatient to be off. As the farmer rode past the door, he turned his face towards Zita, but in the darkness she could not see its expression.