Tom Dinass did not come back for the money Colonel Pendarve had ordered to be paid him, but he started off the very next day, as if he had shaken the Ydoll dust from off his feet, and made for the Plymouth road.
The news was brought to Sam Hardock at the mine by Harry Vores, and Sam chuckled and rubbed his hands as he went and told the two lads.
“Gone, and jolly go with him, Mr Gwyn, sir. We’re well quit of him. I was going to warn you to keep Grip always with you, for I have heared say that he swore he’d have that dog’s life; but perhaps it was all bounce. Anyhow he’s gone, and I’m sure I for one shall feel a bit relieved to be without him.”
Gwyn said very little, but he thought a great deal for a few minutes about how much better it would have been if Sam Hardock had treated Dinass with a little more amiability. He quite forgot all about the matter for three days, and then he had fresh news, for Sam Hardock came to him chuckling again.
“It’s all right, sir,” he said.
“What is—the pumping?”
“Tchah!—that’s all right, of course, sir; I mean about Tom Dinass. Harry Vores’ wife has just come back from staying at Plymouth, and she saw Tom Dinass there. He won’t come back here. Do you know, sir, I’ve got a sort o’ suspicion that he broke Grip’s legs.”
“Eh! Why do you think that?” said Gwyn, starting. “Did anybody suggest such a thing?”
“No, sir; but he always hated the dog, and he might have done it, you know.”
“Oh, yes, and so might you,” said Gwyn, testily.