scared out of her wits, instead of threatening him with the
law, had given him a cheque--yes! a cheque--and he, with a flash of
that cunning which was to lead him eventually to a seat amongst the
plutocrats, had pocketed it and grinned.

"I doan' wan' mor' 'en twenty uv the best, lidy, jus' to mike a
start--an' I doan' wanter part wiv yer 'and-writin' niver. So jes' yer
send two rustlers, wot means notes, of ten pun each, rigistered, to W.
'ickle spelt wiv a haitch, 2 H'apple Blossom Row, Coving Gardin, afore
this toime ter-morrer. An' jes yer remember that h'as long as yer
lives I've got yer bit of 'andwritin.' I ain't goin' ter use it, but
some dye it might come in 'andy. 'Ardly loikly as 'ow yer'd buy twenty
pun wurf of veg from Wal 'ickle eh, lidy?--it 'ud want _some_
h'explanation."

Then this soul made in the image and likeness of his God and found
good, but hidden under the civilising process of the twentieth century
which had given him the morals of a jackal and the status of a pariah
dog, sighed as he looked round the dainty room.

"S'welp me," he said, as he touched a satin cushion with his coarse,
broken-nailed finger-tips, "h'if oi h'understand wye a woman the loikes
uv _you_, wiv h'everyfink she wants, cawn't run _strite_!"

"Oh! but," whimpered the woman, "it was all the fault of the fog,
_really_ it was!"

"Garn!" replied the young ruffian as he opened the door and slammed it
behind him.

CHAPTER XIV

"Surely I am more brutish than any man!"--_The Bible_.

And just about midsummer Fate tweaked the string to which was hobbled
Susan Hetth.

A vulgar but resplendent bachelor middle-aged millionaire, sterling,
not dollars, in order to set his gastronomic house in order, had taken
a notion for the simple life for just as long as the notion should
last, and a perfect bijou of a thatched cottage t'other side of
Clovelly for a year.

With a notion of buying the cottage at Lee in which had dwelt the three
historic maids, he had swept one day through the village in the latest
thing in cars.

Baulked in his intent, and with time upon his podgy hands, he had
rolled, minus the car, along the village path over the strippet of
water and the sunbaked grass to the harbour.

There he had bent, with ardour and misgivings, to pick up Leonie's
towel, just as the soft wind caught her bathing cloak as she stretched
out her hand with a smile of thanks.

She had grabbed at the cloak and missed it b