"You wouldn't think, sir," he said, "that a lady like Mrs. Eames, a vicar's wife, would have stooped to such meanness. Though of course, Mrs. Eames does not belong to that class in which I have been accustomed to live, as a servant, you understand, sir. But I did think that his lordship, the present earl, would have been above it. The late earl would never have done such a thing. But there---- It's better not to talk about it. I can put up with the loss. It isn't that I mind most, but I've been a believer in our aristocracy all my life and it's a sad thing--a knock out, sir, if you'll allow me to express myself in such a way--a blow to my faith, sir, to find that----" He sighed heavily. "But I'd rather say no more about it, sir, if you'll excuse me." Mr. Linker, who also returned to his business after a time, spoke much more plainly, and I regret to say more bitterly, when I called on him under pretext of buying some socks. "I don't set up to be a gentleman myself," he said, "but I say that if a man is a gentleman he ought to behave as such. And that's what some gentlemen I know didn't do. I don't care to go into details. It wouldn't suit a man in my position to talk too much about the matter. But when a gentleman like Lord Colavon takes advantage of my temporary absence from home to convert to his own use property with regard to which he occupied a fiduciary position---- As for the lady associated with him--I refer to Mrs. Eames--well, I always was a Nonconformist, and if that is the sort of conduct we are to expect from the wives of the clergy of the Church of England, I shall remain a Nonconformist. I don't want to be accused of setting up too high a standard of conduct, but I do think that common honesty might have been expected of a lady in Mrs. Eames's position." It was scarcely possible to miss the point of these reproaches. James Hinton and Linker believed that Mrs. Eames and Lord Colavon, probably Beth and Mary, possibly the vicar (I am not sure that Sir Evelyn escaped suspicion) had combined together to secure for their own use the whole cargo smuggled into Hailey Compton. Mrs. Eames and the girls were supposed to be wearing silk which belonged to Mr. Linker. Jimmy and the vicar--perhaps Sir Evelyn--were drinking Hinton's brandy and champagne. And the law--this was the hardest thing about the case--offered no redress to the injured men. Old Bunce and his friends, indeed the whole village, believe just what Hinton and Linker do. There is naturally a little soreness, for the village had looked forward to a share of the spoil. But there is no deep resentment. Mrs. Eames has even risen in everybody's opinion. She is more respected than she used to be and Lord Colavon is regarded as an exceedingly clever man.