"Tut, tut! You are too poor a thing for this business. Well, what then? You have but to say that at my desire you conducted a legal and proper service; you have but to show the marriage license that I leave behind me. You speak of a straight-forward wedding in honest daylight, and the bride willing. Concerning Cecil Stark you know nothing. Gertrude and my man, Mason, the other witness, substantiate you; and soon there will come a dutiful letter from Grace----" "You believe that?" "Once married all is well. The honeymoon will throw a genial light upon duty. She forgives me in a week and even begins to understand me. There's only one cloud: I couldn't get what I wanted out of old Lovey--a certain amphora. She's much too clever for me. Your pipe is out." John Lee had heard every syllable of this conversation; and he had forgotten himself so completely that now, dead to danger, he was as close to the speakers as he could get, with his face pressed to the lattice of the summer-house. Suddenly Relton Norcot struck a light, and before Lee could duck his head the flame had touched his eyes and revealed him. Peter was quick, but the other man had the advantage. There was a crash in the shrubbery, then a figure broke cover, sped into the grass-lands below, and vanished. "We are undone!" cried the clergyman. "I knew this could not come to good. Oh, Peter, my reputation!" "Peace, you silly sheep, this is no time for babble! All's yet well. I marked the man and know him. 'Tis the gipsy, John Lee, and I can deal with him. The problem's simple. He runs to get at Stark; but that can be prevented." "For God's sake, let us go in. I'm struck with an ague." "That such a worm should have power to wield the sacraments of God! Come you in, and hasten to my sister. Bid Gertrude summon Mason and go down to the factory at once. Grace Malherb must be under this roof as quickly as possible. Let them fetch her now. I cannot trust her there longer, with that rogue on the prowl. I'll deal with Lee once for all. Hasten, hasten, my bold jellyfish; your fortune depends on't!" Relton Norcot, trembling in every limb, entered the house, while Peter, familiar with the land, and well knowing that he could reach the lodge where Cecil Stark lay, much more quickly and directly than was possible for John Lee, now proceeded thither, knocked at the window of the little room in which the American resided, mounted the sill and soon stood beside his guest. Stark was already impatient. "But eight hours, friend. Then your pearl is yours--the wealth of Ind! And you'll lunch at Fox Tor Farm with your stepfather! I wonder a little what wine Malherb will bring out of his cellar!" "Eight hours--eight hours."