"A good few shillings, sir! Five pounds of 'em! We're goin' to spend 'em on the weddin'. Giles saved up the money from his wages. He's a good fellow, is Giles, sir." "I'm sure he is; I hope he'll make you a good husband." "I'll see to that!" replied Miss Bilway, grimly, and she went on cleaning the windows. Paul laughed as he entered the tap-room, and thought of the ingenious Mr. Brent's device for accounting for his possession of the money. He was well known to be a thriftless wastrel, who spent most of his earnings in strong ale; and was as likely to save five pounds as he was to do an honest day's work. No one but simple Jane Bilway, blinded by love, would have believed so improbable a story. There was now no doubt in Paul's mind that the theory of Herne was correct. Lovel and Milly had met in the Winding Lane between eight and nine o'clock on the night of the murder, and had been seen by Brent as he was on his way to meet Jane near the church. Lest he should tell Herne of the meeting Lovel had bribed him with the five pounds. "Though it is a large sum for a man like Lovel to give," thought Paul; "he is not well off, and would not part with so much money unless he was forced to. I hope the five pounds was not given to conceal a worse affair than a simple meeting. However, I'll play a game of bluff with Brent, and wring the truth, whatever it may be, out of him." Brent, who was a huge, bull-headed fellow with a sulky face, sat alone in the tap-room with a mug of ale before him. He touched his hat to Paul, whom he recognised, and looked puzzled for the moment at the sight of a gentleman in a low-class public-house, which was usually patronised by himself and those of his class. "Well, Brent," said Paul, in a cheerful voice, "how are you? All right--eh? I have just come to have a few moments of conversation with you." Brent took his pipe from his lips, and gave a sulky growl. "What about, sir?" "I'll tell you in good time," replied Paul, taking a chair, and selecting a cigarette from his case. "In the meantime, I am thirsty, and wish to drink. You'll have some ale with me?" "I'd 'ave ale wi' anyone," said Brent, suspiciously; "but I don't know, sir, what the likes o' you wants with the likes o' me." "We'll come to that soon," said Mexton, and hammered on the table. "Two tankards of bitter," he added to the slip-slop landlady, who entered with a deferential smile. The liquor was soon brought, and after a deep draught Paul lighted his cigarette, and looked closely at the ploughman. Brent took a drink also, and tried to appear at ease, although he was visibly disturbed by the scrutiny of his visitor. Having reduced him to a doubtful frame of mind, Mexton addressed himself to the matter in hand.