CHAPTER XVI

A PAIR OF HANDCUFFS

Mr. Blee, to do him justice, was usually the first afoot at Monks Barton, both winter and summer.  The maids who slept near him needed no alarum, for his step on the stair and his high-pitched summons, “Now then, you lazy gals, what be snorin’ theer for, an’ the day broke?” was always sufficient to ensure their wakening.

At an early hour of the morning that dawned upon Will’s nocturnal adventures, Billy stood in the farmyard and surveyed the shining river to an accompaniment of many musical sounds.  On Monks Barton thatches the pigeons cooed and bowed and gurgled to their ladies, cows lowed from the byres, cocks crew, and the mill-wheel, already launched upon the business of the day, panted from its dark habitation of dripping moss and fern.

Billy sniffed the morning, then proceeded to a pig’s sty, opened a door within it, and chuckled at the spectacle that greeted him.

“Burnish it all! auld sow ’s farrowed at last, then.  Busy night for her, sure ‘nough!  An’ so fine a litter as ever I seed, by the looks of it.”

He bustled off to get refreshment for the gaunt, new-made mother, and as he did so met Ted Chown, who now worked at Mr. Lyddon’s, and had just arrived from his home in Chagford.

“Marnin’, sir; have ’e heard the news?  Gert tidings up-long I ’sure ’e.”

“Not so gert as what I’ve got, I’ll lay.  Butivul litter ‘t is.  Come an’ give me a hand.”

“Bonus was catched poachin’ last night to the Red House.  An’ he’ve had his faace smashed in, nose broke, an’ all.  He escaped arter; but he went to Doctor fust thing to-day an’ got hisself plastered; an’ then, knawin’ ‘t weern’t no use to hide, comed right along an’ gived hisself up to faither.”

“My stars!  An’ no more’n what he desarved, that’s certain.”

“But that ban’t all, even.  Maister Jan Grimbal’s missing!  He rode off last night, Laard knaws wheer, an’ never a sign of un seed since.  They’ve sent to the station ‘bout it a’ready; an’ they ‘m scourin’ the airth for un.  An’ ‘t was Maister Blanchard as fought wi’ Bonus, for Sam said so.”

“Guy Fawkes an’ angels!  Here, you mix this.  I must tell Miller an’ run about a bit.  Gwaine to be a gert day, by the looks of it!”

He hurried into the house, met his master and began with breathless haste,—­

“Awful doin’s!  Awful doin’s, Miller.  Such a sweet-smellin’ marnin’, tu!  Bear yourself stiff against it, for us caan’t say what remains to be told.”

“What’s wrong now?  Doan’t choke yourself.  You ‘m grawin’ tu auld for all the excitements of modern life, Billy.  Wheer’s Will?”

“You may well ax.  Sleepin’ still, I reckon, for he comed in long arter midnight.  I was stirrin’ at the time an’ heard un.  Sleepin’ arter black deeds, if all they tell be true.”

“Black deeds!”