"Yes," said Joe, grimly. "I've been well over the place, and I found this knife lying on a bench. It is the one used for cootting the bands; there's the greasy marks on it. Now, the man as that knife belongs to," he said, closing the blade with a snap, "is him as coot the bands." "By the way, did you ever find the bands?" said the vicar. "Find 'em, parson, oh yes, I fun 'em; chucked into one of the furnaces they weer." "And burnt?" "Well, not exactly bunt, but so cockered up and scorched, as to be no more good. I only wish I knew who did it." "It was a cowardly trick," said the vicar, "and I wish it were known, so that this unhappy strife might be stayed." "Oh, that'll come raight soon," said Banks, drily. "Just wait till Master Dick has been over to the bank and seen how his book stands once or twice, and we'll soon bring this game to an end." "And meanwhile the poor people are starving." "Not they, sir," said Joe, with a chuckle. "People here are too saving. They'll hold out a bit longer yet." Joe remained to smoke a pipe amongst the extinct forges, while the vicar paid a morning call at the big house, to find Mrs Glaire and Eve gone for a walk, and Jacky Budd visible in the garden, fast asleep on a rustic chair, with the flies haunting his nose. Turning from there he went down the street, and had to bow to Miss Purley, who was at the doctor's window, and to Miss Primgeon, who was at the lawyer's window, both ladies having been there ever since he passed. Then reaching the vicarage, it was to find that he had had a visitor in his turn in the shape of his churchwarden, Mr Bultitude, "Owd Billy Bultitude," as he was generally called in the town, just outside which he had a large farm and was reported to be very wealthy. "Parish matters, I suppose," said the vicar; and he stood debating with himself for a few minutes as to whether he should go across the fields, ending by making a start, and coming across Richard Glaire deep in converse with Sim Slee, just by the cross-roads. Something white was passed by Richard to the gentleman of the plaid waistcoat, as the vicar approached, and then they moved on together for a few yards, unaware of the coming footsteps. "That looks like coming to terms," said the vicar to himself, joyfully. "Well, I'm glad of it," and he was about to speak on the subject, when Richard started round with a scowl upon his countenance, and Slee thrust his hands into his pockets and went off whistling. "As you will, master Dick," said the vicar to himself; "but I mean to try hard yet to get the whip hand of you, my boy." Then, aloud, "What a delightful morning." "Look here, Mr Selwood," said Richard, roughly, "are you playing the spy upon my actions?" "Not I," said the vicar, laughing, "I am going over to Bultitude's farm; I cannot help your being in the way. Good morning." "He was watching me," muttered Dick, biting his nails. "I wonder whether he saw that note."