"You leave that to me," answered William. "When you see their heads stuck on, you'll know who they be well enough. I've had to take Jarratt's word for the man; but the woman everybody in Lydford will swear to, or I'm no painter."
"Be the putty dried out, 'Infant'?" asked Weekes.
"Very nearly. I've got the paints mixed and a fine lot of corded rope the very colour of——"
"Stop! That'll tell 'em!" cautioned the elder.
Then William rose and whispered to the senior conspirator.
"And the very thing for the eyes—a piece of luck. I was wandering along thinking of 'em, when what should I see in a rubbish heap but a broken plate—blue as the sky! I've chipped a pair of eyeballs and put the pupils in."
He showed enthusiasm for his unlovely task, and Weekes encouraged him.
Then Churchward returned to his dummy and filled the nether garments of the male figure with straw.
"Mustn't have too much," he said, "for by all accounts he's a thin man—a mere skeleton of a man."
Mr. Huggins rose.