In the policeman Inman found a staunch ally. Every hint that was dropped by the crafty plotter with a sportive humour that concealed itself behind a mask of cynical unconcern was accepted and acted upon by Stalker as if it had been a divine revelation. Nothing, of course, could have served Inman’s purpose better; and he controlled the constable’s movements to an extent that would have surprised the sergeant, who was kept in blissful ignorance of these trifling occurrences. Stalker had no qualms of conscience because he was quite certain that he was on the track of a criminal, and that with Inman’s unobtrusive help he would one day lay his hands upon him. For this reason the coldness or abuse of the villagers made as little impression upon him as their scorn. He was a dull and easily-befooled officer; but he had learned that if the law moved slowly, it also moved majestically, and he could bide his time. He accepted the suggestion of his prompter that these mishaps to the Drakes were all arranged by Jagger himself to throw dust in his eyes and divert his attention from the weightier matter of the robbery; and he was determined to take good care that the device should not succeed. All this, of course, was not known to the Drakes; but both father and son had a shrewd suspicion of how matters stood, though their attitude towards the suspect differed materially. When Jagger said, therefore: “Let him be!” the look that accompanied the injunction was more expressive than the words. “Twelve months since,” said Hannah with sisterly satisfaction, “you’d ha’ been ready to creep into your grave over t’ job. It isn’t all to t’ bad.” “Not by a long way,” added the father. “I’m o’ Jagger’s way o’ thinking, and I lay all t’ blame for this mischief on yon lad; but choose what harm he’s done he’s made a man o’ Jagger, so we’ve no ’casion to be over hard on him. He’ll tire o’ these kids’ tricks i’ time, and maybe repent on ’em. As for getting hold of his throttle, it ’ud suit me better to get hold of his ’at has him on t’ fork.” “There isn’t a ha’porth o’ difference between ’em,” said Jagger emphatically. “Yes, there’s this much,” corrected his father; “’at t’ Old Lad’s i’ t’ sperrit and t’ young lad’s i’ t’ flesh, and while a man’s i’ t’ flesh there’s hope for him; and I’d sooner break t’ lad off his bad ways than I’d break his back for him. T’ devil knows a good hammer when he sees it, and a good hammer’s a good friend if we could steal it away. I could like to do that bit o’ thieving.” “They’ve black hearts that comes off o’ that black moor,” said grannie, shaking her head in deprecation of her son’s optimism; but he laughed the implication away. “There’s few black hearts ’at’s fast dye, mother. They’ll wash clean, and if we could get t’ sun to ’em they’d maybe bleach.”