Mr. Fern and his lieutenant exchanged speech for the first time after the second glass. Then said the former suddenly: “Brander, who’s the cock of this run?” “Oh, don’t you know, Jack Fern,” was the answer; “the bantam, by the token, that crows himself red in the face?” There seemed some personality here. “Then I’ll have you know, by God, that I’m not to be supplanted by any white-shackled rooster that can out-screech me. You assume too much authority, sir, on the strength of an acquaintance with primers.” Mr. Brander very urbanely recited the fable of the cock and the jewel. “’Twas the Lake of Wine,” said he; “and there it was under your nose while you kicked up the dunghill. Primers have their uses.” “Maybe; maybe not.” “Why, man--give me Cutwater’s letter.” “What for?” “Give me Cutwater’s letter, I say.” The other hesitated, then from a pocket-book that he drew from his coat, selected a yellowed fragment of paper and flung it sulkily across the table to his companion. “Now, Mr. Fern,” said Brander, taking up the letter deliberately and referring to it--“vouchsafe me your kind attention, if you please. This was dated, I think, some months before the lamented gentleman’s death, and was addressed to you?” “Oh! curse you out of your pedantry, Ebenezer Brander!” “In it occur the following words, once expressive of mere violence to you--of enigma to me. Let me re-read them. ‘I’ve got the stone, bloody Jack Fern, and the stone I mean to keep. You’ll find it, despite the devil and Mister C., will you? Find it, you----’ (Tut, tut, Mr. Cutwater! what a shocking unpoliteness!) ‘Pray to the blessed St. Anthony, you’d better; for it’s hid well, I’ll tell you. It’s in my head but you’ll make a lame matter of the search.’” He finished, threw the paper back to the other and pulled at his pipe. “‘In my head,’” he repeated, softly knuckling the table. “Who, when you showed him the letter, half-read the riddle in those words, and egged you on to renew the search? Whose prognostications were verified in that which was overheard by our friend the innkeeper?” “I grant you can see further into a haystack than the most of us.” “You do, do you? Then what’s your complaint?” “That you undermine me in the favour of my fellows, by God!--that you assume the leadership and work first and foremost to your own advancement.” “Have I misrepresented you in giving that gentleman-scamp his last warning?” “No.” “In concealing from him the truth of the girl’s throwing herself into our hands?” “No.” “You would have blundered in all this. You have the hoofs and horns of a bullock, and they are your one appeal and resource. Take the fighting to yourself and leave the diplomacy to your betters.” “You don’t rest content with your share. I grant you one devil, and you spawn out a dozen. As there’s hell smouldering for us all, I believe there was truth in the fellow’s story of your double-dealing with him.” Brander rose to his feet.