thing but the undulating moors, broken up by great
masses of limestone rock and occasional clumps and coverts of fir and
pine; nothing but the blue line of the hills in the west; nothing but
the grey northern skies overhead; nothing but the cry of the curlew and
the bleating of the mountain sheep. It was in the midst of this that he
met his senior employer--at the corner of a thin spinney which ran along
the edge of a disused quarry. Mallalieu, as Stoner well knew, was a
great man for walking on these moors, and he always walked alone. He
took these walks to keep his flesh down; here he came, swinging his
heavy oak walking-stick, intent on his own thoughts, and he and Stoner,
neither hearing the other's footfall on the soft turf, almost ran into
each other. Stoner, taken aback, flushed with the sudden surprise.

But Mallalieu, busied with his own reflections, had no thought of Stoner
in his mind, and consequently showed no surprise at meeting him. He made
a point of cultivating friendly relations with all who worked for him,
and he grinned pleasantly at his clerk.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed cordially. "Taking your walks alone, eh? Now I
should ha' thought a young fellow like you would ha' been taking one o'
Miss Featherby's little milliners out for a dander, like--down the
river-side, what?"

Stoner smiled--not as Mallalieu smiled. He was in no mood for
persiflage; if he smiled it was because he thought that things were
coming his way, that the game was being played into his hands. And
suddenly he made up his mind.

"Something better to do than that, Mr. Mallalieu," he answered pertly.
"I don't waste my time on dress-makers' apprentices. Something better to
think of than that, sir."

"Oh!" said Mallalieu. "Ah! I thought you looked pretty deep in
reflection. What might it be about, like?"

Something within Stoner was urging him on to go straight to the point.
No fencing, said this inward monitor, no circumlocution--get to it,
straight out. And Stoner thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulled out
a copy of the reward bill. He opened it before his employer, watching
Mallalieu's face.

"That!" he said. "Just that, Mr. Mallalieu."

Mallalieu glanced at the handbill, started a little, and looked
half-sharply, half-angrily, at his clerk.

"What about it?" he growled. His temper, as Stoner well knew, was
quickly roused, and it showed signs of awakening now. "What're you
showing me that bit o' paper for? Mind your manne