CHAPTER XVII

MISSING

John Grimbal, actuated by some whim, or else conscious that under the circumstances decorum demanded his attendance, was present at the funeral of Clement Hicks.  Some cynic interest he derived from the spectacle of young Blanchard among the bearers; and indeed, as may be supposed, few had felt this tragic termination of his friend’s life more than Will.  Very genuine remorse darkened his days, and he blamed himself bitterly enough for all past differences with the dead.  It was in a mood at once contrite and sorrowful that he listened to the echo of falling clod, and during that solemn sound mentally traversed the whole course of his relations with his sister’s lover.  Of himself he thought not at all, and no shadowy suspicion of relief crossed his mind upon the reflection that the knowledge of those fateful weeks long past was now unshared.  In all his quarrels with Clement, no possibility of the man breaking his oath once troubled Will’s mind; and now profound sorrow at his friend’s death and deep sympathy with Chris were the emotions that entirely filled the young farmer’s heart.

Grimbal watched his enemy as the service beside the grave proceeded.  Once a malignant thought darkened his face, and he mused on what the result might be if he hinted to Blanchard the nature of his frustrated business with Hicks at Oke Tor.  All Chagford had heard was that the master of the Red House intended to accept Clement Hicks as tenant of his home farm.  The fact surprised many, but none looked behind it for any mystery, and Will least of all.  Grimbal’s thoughts developed upon his first idea; and he asked himself the consequence if, instead of telling Blanchard that he had gone to learn his secret, he should pretend that it was already in his possession.  The notion shone for a moment only, then went out.  First it showed itself absolutely futile, for he could do no more than threaten, and the other must speedily discover that in reality he knew nothing; and secondly, some shadow of feeling made Grimbal hesitate.  His desire for revenge was now developing on new lines, and while his purpose remained unshaken, his last defeat had taught him patience.  Partly from motives of policy, partly, strange as it may seem, from his instincts as a sportsman, he determined to let the matter of Hicks lie buried.  For the dead man’s good name he cared nothing, however, and victory over Will was only the more desired for this postponement.  His black tenacity of purpose won strength from the repulse, but the problem for the time being was removed from its former sphere of active hatred towards his foe.  How long this attitude would last, and what idiosyncrasy of character led to it, matters little.  The fact remained that Grimbal’s mental posture towards Blanchard now more nearly resembled that which he wore to his other interests in life.  The circumstance still stood first, but partook of the nature of his emotions towards matters of sport.  When a heavy trout had beaten him more than once, Grimbal would repair again and again to its particular haunt and leave no legitimate plan for its destruction untried.  But any unsportsmanlike method of capturing or slaying bird, beast, or fish enraged him.  So he left the churchyard with a sullen determination to pursue his sinister purpose straightforwardly.