"I have it, Sir Humphrey," he cried excitedly. "I have it! A perfectly safe way of conveying those letters to my strong room at Wirksworth!"
"Let's have it, then."
"I have bought some sheep of a farmer from over Aldwark way, for a client at Wirksworth. Here," he added, pulling a paper out of his pocket and handing it up to Sir Humphrey, "is the receipt and tally for them. Jock Miggs—Master Crabtree's shepherd—is taking the sheep to the town to-day. He'll most likely put up for the night on the Heath."
"Well?" queried Sir Humphrey.
"Well! Jock Miggs can neither read nor write."
"Of course not."
"Let us send him to Wirksworth and tell him to leave the packet of letters at my house in charge of my clerk, Master Duffy, who will put it in the strong room until you want them. Duffy started for Wirksworth at daybreak this morning, and should be there by nightfall."
"Pshaw, man! would you have me trust such valuable letters to a fool of a shepherd?"
"Nay, Sir Humphrey, but that is our safeguard. Beau Brocade never touches the poor or the peasantry, and certainly would never suspect Jock Miggs of being in your Honour's confidence, whilst the ordinary footpads would take no count of him. He is worth neither powder nor shot."
"That's true enough!"