"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.