“Aye, sir, in ’is shirt-sleeves, when along comes Oxham and says summat an’ p’ints at Sturton, whereupon my lord says summat to Sturton in a mighty passion an’ Sturton says summat to Lord Sayle, mighty ’umble, an’ Lord Sayle fetches Sturton a clout wi’ his fencin’-iron an’ sends ’im about ’is business.... An’ now I’ll bid ye good-evenin’, sir; yonder lays my road.... I’ve a brace o’ birds for ol’ Pen.... Happen I’ll be seeing ye at the Cross purty soon.... The _True Believer_’ll be across one o’ these nights i’ the dark o’ the moon, for business be business, sir.” So saying, Mr. Potter climbed the adjacent bank, paused to touch bludgeon to eyebrow, and was gone. Sir John was in sight of Alfriston Church spire when, hearing the approach of galloping hoofs, he turned to behold the Corporal returning. “Ah!” said he, noting Robert’s gloom, “our murderer’s hat had vanished, then?” “Com-pletely, sir!” “Well, well, never look so glum, man! Our day hath not been wholly vain.” CHAPTER XXXVIII OF THE TERROR BY NIGHT June coming in glory had flamed out in splendour. August glowed from dewy dawn to dusky eve; upon the warm and slumbrous air was the fragrance of ripening fruit and herb; flowers bloomed sedately in cottage gardens, they rioted in the hedges, fields and uplands were ablaze with them where butterflies wheeled and hovered and bees hummed drowsily about their unceasing labours. The river, winding sleepily between reedy banks, made little slumbrous noises, the very brooks, by reason of the pervading heat and universal somnolence, seemed to hush their chatter; and neighbours in shirt-sleeves, meeting in shady places, yawningly informed each other of the very obvious fact that it was “tur’ble waarmish-loike!” Even Mr. Dumbrell, that “aged soul,” perched upon his accustomed stile, admitted that, in his vast experience, he had “knowed a colder August.... But, Lord, young man, to ’ear folks talk, you’d think ’twas that ’ot! But look at oi, so grig an’ sproy for arl my aage, look at oi, will ’ee!” “Thou’rt a truly wonderful man!” answered Sir John. “Ay, sartin-sure-indeed, oi be!” answered the Aged One. “But oi knawed that afore you was barn!” “Indeed, Mr. Dumbrell, you look heartier than ever——” “Well, oi bean’t! ’Ow can oi be—wi’ a musket-ball a-rattlin’ my innards an’ a granddarter a-rattlin’ my out’ards—wi’ a bresh? Mak’s me wash my face twoice a day, she du—twoice!” “Consequently you look extreme cool and clean.”