"Wast over eager, cousin, to hear the Lean Man’s purpose toward Wayne of Marsh," he said. "Say, is it true—what they whisper up and down the country-side—that thou wert friendly to this Wayne the Shameless?" "And if I were, sir, what is’t to thee?" she flashed, turning round to him. "What is’t to me? Shall I tell thee again, girl, that I’ve sworn to wed thee?" "And shall I answer again that I will wed thee when apple-trees grow——?" "The Lean Man has bidden me prosper with my suit." "I shall persuade him otherwise." "Wilt thou?" he snarled. "Even if I tell him what gossip has to say of thee and Shameless Wayne?" Her face took that firmness that mention of Wayne’s name never failed to bring there. "Thou _darest_ not tell him," she said; "for then thou would’st be sure I would never look thy way again." The shaft aimed true, for Red Ratcliffe’s passion for his cousin had grown to fever-heat during these latter days. Finding no answer, he watched her go out by the door that led to the garden; and then he turned on his heel and passed through the hall, meaning to saddle his horse forthwith and ride down to Marshcotes on his errand. "The Lean Man is right," he muttered, as he went out. "’Tis time that this Wayne of Marsh was out of harm’s way." His hand was already on the door-latch when old Nicholas himself, still seated by the hearth, detained him, though a while since he had bidden him make all speed to Marshcotes. "I’ve a word for thy ear, lad," said the Lean Man. "Come sit beside me and tell me whether ’tis well planned or no." For a half hour they sat there, the young rogue and the old, their lean faces and red heads pressed close together. And now the Lean Man let a chuckle escape, and again Red Ratcliffe would fetch a crack of laughter. "By the Mass, sir, your wits keep sharp!" cried the younger, raising his voice on the sudden. "The plan goes bonnily as wedding bells. First, to go hunting——" "Hush, fool, there’s Janet in the room behind," snapped the Lean Man; "and she has less liking for sword-music than her bravery warrants." "Janet is out of hearing. I saw her go down the garden-path just now." "Well, ’tis time thou wast off and about this business. Bring back Dick’s body, and forget not to ply old Witherlee with questions when thou’rt seeing him about the grave. He’s a poor fool, is Sexton Witherlee, and he’ll tell thee all we want to know as soft as butter."