People who mixed their drinks and their company when in possession of large sums of ready money should not complain if they lost it. She ought to be thankful she had not been relieved of the lot. They would make inquiries, of course, but held out no hope. There was an officer with a string of recruits in town, an Irish privateer and two foreign ships in the port, to say nothing of the Guernsey smugglers—the place was seething with covetous and desperate characters. They wagged their wigs and doubted if she would ever see her money again. She never did. CHAPTER XIII Some three weeks after Teresa’s loss Eli found his brother in the yard fitting a fork-head to a new haft. “Saw William John Prowse up to Church-town,” said he. “He told me to tell you that you must take the two horses over to once because he’s got to go away.” Ortho frowned. Under his breath he consigned William John Prowse to eternal discomfort. Then his face cleared. “I’ve been buying a horse or two for Pyramus,” he remarked casually. “He’ll be down along next week.” Eli gave him a curious glance. Ortho looked up and their eyes met. “What’s the matter?” “It was you stole that hundred pounds from mother, I suppose.” Ortho started and then stared. “Me! My Lord, what next! Me steal that . . . well, I be damned! Think I’d turn toby and rob my own family, do you? Pick my right pocket to fill my left? God’s wrath, you’re a sweet brother!” “I do think so, anyhow,” said Eli doggedly. “How? Why?” “’Cos King Herne can do his own buying and because on the night mother was robbed you were out.” Ortho laughed again. “Smart as a gauger, aren’t you? Well, now I’ll tell you. William John let me have the horses on trust, and as for being out, I’m out most every night. I’d been to Churchtown. I’ve got a sweetheart there, if you must know. So now, young clever!” Eli shrugged his shoulders and turned away. “Don’t you believe me?” Ortho called. “No.” “Why not?” “’Cos ’tis well known William John Prowse wouldn’t trust his father with a turnip, and that Polly mare hadn’t brought you two miles from Gwithian. She’d come three times that distance and hard. She was as wet as an eel; I felt her.” Ortho bit his lip. “So ho, steady!” he called softly. “Come round here a minute.” He led the way round the corner of the barn and Eli followed. Ortho leaned against the wall, all smiles again. “See here, old son,” said he in a whisper, “you’re right. I did it. But I did it for you, for your sake, mind that.” “Me!” Ortho nodded. “Surely. Look you, in less than two years Tregors and this here place fall to me, don’t they?” “Yes,” said Eli. Ortho tapped him on the chest. “Well, the minute I get possession I’m going to give you Tregors, lock, stock and barrel. That’s the way father meant it, I take it—only he didn’t have time to put it in writing. But now Tregors is in the bag, and how are we going to get it out if mother will play chuck-guinea like she does?”