john lee had reached a supreme height of indifference to fortune even before his capture, condemnation and sentence. he awaited his end without concern, and only averted it at the instance of thomas putt. afterwards, for mingled reasons, he carefully abstained from any intercourse with fox tor farm. and thus it happened that he knew nothing of the supposed death and burial of his grandmother. the miser herself had gloated over the success of her enterprise as related by mr. cloberry, but leaman was expressly directed by lovey lee to keep the truth a secret; and this he did, being well paid for his pains. meantime the old woman's indignation grew that maurice malherb was not arrested and hanged.
"'tis a blackguard beast of a world," she told leaman cloberry. "one law for rich an' one for poor; but if there's any justice left stirring in the land, us may live to see him dancing in the air outside of exeter gaol yet."
now, after a period of most miserable seclusion in a shepherd's ruined cot near the secret sources of dart, john lee was to find himself again thrust into the affairs of grace malherb, and to thank god that he had been spared to do her further service.
it was not until peter norcot had returned from london, after a visit of three weeks' duration, that lovey lee opened the new project to her grandson, and then, indeed, she approached it in a fashion so remarkable that one might have been stirred to admiration.
she returned late one night to their haunt, and plunged into a startling narrative which quickly roused john lee from sleep.
"the wickedness of this world! oh, jack, if ever you go out among men again, an' get safe off to america, as you hope, try an' keep straight."
he turned over in his bed of dry heath and stared while his grandmother ate her supper. only a streak of moonlight through the roof lighted their forlorn hiding-place.
"that's strange advice from your lips," he said.
"i know i've been a bad old devil—nobody knows it better. but whose fault? the world's, not mine. an' i'm white to black compared to some of us."
"that's very comforting for you, i'll wager. but he must be a night-black colour that makes you look fair. yet since you can mourn, 'tis well. give back the malherb amphora and i'll say you're the best woman in england."
"all in good time. have you thought what that bit of glass has cost me? i can't change my god in a minute. for my god it be. but i'm minded to alter my way of living—i swear it—after what i've heard this night."
"have you met the devil himself then?"
"no—his right hand, peter norcot. i was just sitting by the wayside, full of wonder how i could get out of this evil an' clear the country, an' turn my fag end of life to good, when past he rode 'pon his great horse. ''tis lovey lee!' he cries out, for his lynx eyes remembered my face, even in moonlight. and the black spleen of him! his first thought was you! he's hopeful to see you hanged yet. 'give him up an' i'll give 'e five hunderd pound,' he said. but i ban't sunk so low as that, though by your starting you seem to think so. i said i knowed nought about 'e. 'leave that then,' says he. 'you can help me in another job, and richly i'll reward you.'
"then he fell to telling 'bout malherb an' his darter. he'm set there still—the black patience of him! an' now his plan be to kindiddle her away altogether. he's plotting to get her under his own roof; and once there—oh lord! even i—stone-hearted as i've been till now—felt my inwards curdle to hear him an' see the moonlight in his steel eyes! but i was so cunning as a viper an' promised to help him if he'd help me."
"what do you want of him?"
"he'm going to change all my gold money into paper, an' he'm going to buy my watches an' snuff-boxes an' teaspoons, as i can't take with me. then, that done, i've promised to help with the maiden. she'm to meet him 'pon saturday week, an' if she do, home she'll never go no more till her name be grace norcot."
"and you promised to help in that?"
"i didn't dare refuse; but i'm going to play him false. i've done with wickedness. these latter days have drove the fear of god into me. i wouldn't help that tiger, not for another amphora; an' i be going to prove it by taking the side of right."
"she must be warned."
"i know it; an' that's your work. us can't go to fox tor farm; but you've got to see her by hook or by crook, else 'tis all over with her."
"i might write."
"you must write. 'tis the only way. an' since she taught 'e to write, she'll know your penmanship an' trust it. my only fear was you'd had about enough of the girl an' wouldn't care to do no more for her. but so it lies: if she's to be saved, you must do it. i'm too old and weak to do anything. besides, i'm feared of norcot."
"i must see her."
"you can't—not at fox tor farm. he've got his spies set as though he'd made war upon the house. his plot be deeper than the sea. go near an' you'm a dead man, for there's money on your head. us can only trust leaman cloberry to take a letter for a reward; an' since he'll be sure to read what you say, 'twill be well in the letter to do no more than ax the maid to come an' see you."
"see me!"
"why not? she's free; you ban't. you can slip down to cloberry's cot at dartmeet by night, an' she can come next day an' see you there an' get her warning."
lee nodded.
"a written word will bring her, an' cloberry would get it to her for money. that i'll pay. he's as fond of gold as i was afore i began to get sense. i'll give leaman ten pounds if he does what you want."
john lee's simple heart was too concerned with grace to reflect upon his grandmother's attitude toward this business. full of the perils that lay in wait for her, and aware she was ignorant of them, he thanked heaven that he was still alive and possessed power to do her vital service. he did not weigh lovey's words, but her startling news; he did not question the probable veracity of her present sentiments; but considered little more than her proposals to assist him in a righteous cause. that he must now see grace was clear; and if, as had been declared, the plot against her only wanted a week for its fulfilment, the event cried for instant action. since to approach fox tor farm and pierce the cordon said to be set around was doubtless impossible, john determined to follow his grandmother's advice and write and bid grace meet him at leaman cloberry's cottage. to walk or ride thither was easy for her and could rouse no suspicion. then what he had to say might be quickly said, though it could not safely be written.
"i'll go after nightfall to-morrow," he declared.
"and bid her come to see you on friday, be it wet or fine," answered lovey; "for after that date she'll be free no more. her father's hardened his heart like pharaoh. he'll see that she don't trick him again."
"her father!"
"so norcot told me—grinning like a rain-shoot. they'm both against her. 'tis two to one; and 'twould be three to one if i'd done what they wanted. but i couldn't. i'm weary of wickedness."
"after nightfall to-morrow, then," said the man.
lovey spoke no more, and they retired into their respective corners of the hut; but when, two hours later, john lee's steady breathing told his grandmother that he was unconscious, she rose, left him asleep, and crept away into the moor. southward she went, and then, near the tor called hartland, heard a voice out of the night—a cracked and ancient voice, that sang of the owner's business and repeated its refrain with the monotony of a bird.
"a ha'penny for a rook;
a penny for a jay;
a noble for a fox;
an' twelvepence for a gray!"
soon lovey found leaman cloberry, where he waited by appointment in a cleft of the rocks, snugly clad as usual in the raiment of dead beasts.
"'tis all so easy as cursing," she said. "he'll come to you to-morrow—poor sheep—an' write the letter. you'll get it to her through tom putt, who won't know what he's doing; an' she'll go to him friday. then he'll pour his nonsense into her ears; and as she passes home, along by whispering wood, you an' me will be waiting for her. she'll jump for joy and fear no evil when she sees me alive; for it means that her father's guiltless of blood."
"an' this here mr. norcot?" asked cloberry. "a good friend to me an' very generous in the past; but the money ought to be big."
"so it will be. we take the maiden by night up to where the springs of dart break out; an' then he comes along by chance and rescues her from us. 'tis all planned. he'll seem in a grand rage, an' may even fetch you a blow or two; but they'm light at fifty pounds. then off he goes with her to chagford, and not a living soul that cares for her will know where she be hidden till it pleases him to tell."
"an' john lee?" inquired the vermin-catcher.
"well—what of him? who troubles about the cheese when the mouse is catched? he'll know nought till he hears she has been caught. and she'll always think that 'twas his treachery laid the trap for her!"
