Mr. Mattacott looked across jealously at the innocent Bart Stanbury.
"He's too young for her even if she'd have him," he said. "'Tis his sandy hair and his blue, silly eyes have made her think twice about him."
"Keep to business," interrupted Billy Screech. "Now it's agreed we get the girl to Crazywell come Christmas Eve next; and that's nearly two months off, so we've got plenty of time to cabal against Bart. The first question is, who shall take her to Crazywell on the day?"
They all frowned over this problem; then Screech solved it brilliantly.
"Why, Bart hisself, to be sure! What better could happen? He hears his doom come up out of the water; and of course, even if they was tokened, he'd have to release her after that. Any man would have to do it."
They applauded and Mattacott was especially enthusiastic. But the policeman acknowledged a doubt.
"It don't strike you as too terrible a thing?" he asked. "For my part, as a tender man, though guardian of law and order, I can't think we should let the fellow hear his own fate. He might believe it and go mad. Stranger things have happened."
"Have no fear: he won't believe it," said Mr. Screech. "'Tis her that will believe it, and 'tis her that we want to believe it."
"A fine stroke certainly--to make Bart hear it himself," admitted Maunder; "that is, if I've got your word for it the man won't be hurt in his mind by such an adventure."
"That's settled then; and now there's the great question of who does the spirit," continued Screech. "Of course, 'tis Mattacott's job--not mine; yet I must point out that his voice is not well suited to the deed."