"I know your face; yet I know it not. Who are you?" asked Peter.
The wanderer uttered a sound that might have indicated amusement.
"I've had a long journey and feared every moment to find my feet in a man-trap."
"That you need not have done upon my land. The gorge of humanity rises at such damnable contrivances. The ruffian Yeoland, lord of the manor, has both traps and spring-guns in his coverts—he showed them to me himself, cold-blooded devil. Yes, he exhibited them with such pride as a mother might display her first-born! Engines of hell! But they answer their purpose; he does not lose a bird now."
"Since when was you so merciful? Your words is soft—your eyes give 'em the lie."
Then Norcot, recognising his visitor, leapt from his seat and stared with real amazement. For once he was startled into an oath.
"Good God, it's Lovey Lee!"
The miser grinned.
"You was a long time finding out. Ess fay—poor old Lovey, still in the land of the living."
"But your bones were found and buried! There was a most dramatic scene, I hear. Malherb—he cried out before them all in the churchyard at Widecombe that he had slain you, that your blood was upon his head. It's eating his heart out, they say."