“He war a downright bad 'un war Foxey,” Luke said, “vor sure. No worse in the district, and there's many a one as would rejoice as he's gone to his account, and oi believe as whoever's done it has saved Captain Lud from a job; but there, it's no use a talking of that now. Now, look here, Bill, what thou hast got to do be this. Thou hast got to find the boy; oi expect he be hiding somewheres up on t' moors. Thou knowst better nor oi wheere he be likely vor to be. Voind him out, lad, and tell him as they be arter him. Here be ten punds as oi ha had laying by me for years ready in case of illness; do thou give it to him and tell him he be heartily welcome to it, and can pay me back agin when it suits him. Tell him as he'd best make straight for Liverpool and git aboard a ship there for 'Merikee--never moind whether he did the job or whether he didn't. Things looks agin him now, and he best be on his way.” “Oi'll do't,” Bill said, “and oi'll bid thee goodby, Luke, and thee too, Polly, for ye won't see me back agin. Of course I shall go wi' him. He haven't got man's strength yet, and oi can work for us both. I bain't a-going to let him go by hisself, not loikely.” “Thou art roight, lad,” Luke said heartily. “Dang it all, lad, thou speak'st loike a man. Oi be sorry thou art going, Bill, for oi loike thee; but thou be right to go wi' this poor lad. Goodby, lad, and luck be wi' ye;” and Luke wrung Bill's hand heartily. “I shan't say goodby, Bill,” Mary Powlett said quietly. “I don't think Ned Sankey can have done this thing, and if he hasn't you will find that he will not run away, but will stay here and face it out.” “Then he will be a fool,” Luke Marner said. “I tell ee the evidence be main strong agin him, and whether he be innocent or not he will find it hard to clear hisself. Oi don't think much the worst of him myself if he done it, and most in Varley will be o' my way o' thinking. Foxey war a tyrant if ever there war one, and the man what was so hard a maister to his hands would be loike to be hard to his wife's children.” “Don't speak like that, feyther,” Polly said; “murder is murder, you know.” “Ay, lass, and human natur be human natur, and it be no use your going agin it. If he ha been and ill treated the boy, and I don't doubt as he has, thou may'st argue all noight, but thou won't get me to say as oi blames him much if he has done it. Oi don't suppose as he meant to kill him--not vor a moment. I should think hard of him if oi thowt as how he did. He meant, oi reckon, vor to throw his horse down and cut his knees, knowing, as every one did, as Mulready were moighty proud of his horse, and he may have reckoned as Foxey would git a good shake, and some bruises as well, as a scare, but oi doan't believe, not vor a moment, as he meant vor to kill him. That's how oi reads it, lass.”