Hazel first turned red, and then she turned white, and her lower lip began to tremble. She disliked the widow, but had to admit that she had never been unkindly treated by her, and, though not her own kith and kin, she was the nearest approach to a relative she could remember. But, on the other hand, Hazel belonged by tradition and breed to the votaries of the grim cult of the Law. Crime must not go unpunished; moreover (and here Hazel subscribed to a still more venerable code) one's own kith and kin must not go unavenged. But the very vehemence with which she longed to be rid of the widow's control had bred a curious irrational sense of guilt with regard to her; and, into the bargain, she was terrified of her. Supposing this clue should lead to nothing, and the widow discover that they had been imagining? How, in that case, should she dare to face her, to go on living under the same roof with her? And yet ... she was certain she had tried to murder their guest that night. How dared she? How dared she? Hazel clenched her fists, and in a little gasping voice said, "Yes, sir, I'll help you." "Good!" said Master Nathaniel briskly. "I want to take old Portunus's advice--and dig under that herm in the orchard, this very night. Though, mind you, it's just as likely as not to prove nothing but the ravings of a crazy mind; or else it may concern some buried treasure, or something else that has nothing to do with your grandfather's murder. But, in the case of our finding a valuable bit of evidence, we must have witnesses. And I think we should have the law-man of the district with us; who is he?" "It's the Swan blacksmith, Peter Pease." "Is there any servant you trust whom you could send for him? Someone more attached to you than to the widow?" "I can trust them all, and they all like me best," she answered. "Good. Go and wake a servant and send him off at once for the blacksmith. Tell him not to bring him up to the house, but to take him straight to the orchard ... we don't want to wake the widow before need be. And the servant can stay and help us with the job--the more witnesses the better." Hazel felt as if she was in a strange, rather terrible dream. But she crept up to the attic and aroused one of the unmarried labourers--who, according to the old custom, slept in their master's house--and bade him ride into Swan and bring the blacksmith back with him on important business concerning the law. Hazel calculated that he should get to Swan and back in less than an hour, and she and Master Nathaniel crept out of the house to wait for them in the orchard, each provided with a spade. The moon was on the wane, but still sufficiently full to give a good light. She was, indeed, an orchard thief, for no fruit being left to rob, she had robbed the leaves of all their colour.