Hexendale?" said
Brereton. "Where is Hexendale?"

The old woman pointed westward.

"Inland," she answered. "Over yonder. Miss there knows Hexendale well
enough."

"Hexendale is a valley--with a village of the same name in it--that lies
about five miles away on the other side of the moors," said Avice.
"There's another line of railway there--this man Mrs. Hamthwaite speaks
of could come and go by that."

"Well," remarked Brereton presently, "we're very much obliged to you,
ma'am, and I'm sure you won't have any objection to telling all this
again at the proper time and place, eh?"

"Eh, bless you, no!" answered Mrs. Hamthwaite. "I'll tell it wherever
you like, master--before Lawyer Tallington, or the magistrates, or the
crowner, or anybody! But I'll tell you what, if you'll take a bit of
advice from an old woman--you're a sharp-looking young man, and I'll
tell you what I should do if I were in your place--now then!"

"Well, what?" asked Brereton good-humouredly.

Mrs. Hamthwaite clapped him on the shoulder as she opened the door for
her visitors.

"Find that tall man in the grey clothes!" she said. "Get hold of him!
He's the chap you want!"

Brereton went silently away, meditating on the old woman's last words.

"But where are we to find him?" he suddenly exclaimed. "Who is he?"

"I don't think that puzzles me," remarked Avice. "He's the man who sent
the nine hundred pounds."

Brereton smote his stick on the heather at their feet.

"By George!--I never thought of that!" he exclaimed. "I shouldn't
wonder!--I shouldn't wonder at all. Hooray!--we're getting nearer and
nearer to something."

But he knew that still another step was at hand--an unpleasant, painful
step--when, on getting back to Bent's, an hour later, Bent told him that
Lettie had been cajoled into fixing the day of the wedding, and that the
ceremony was to take place with the utmost privacy that day week.

CHAPTER XX

AT BAY

It was only by an immense effort of will that Brereton prevented an
exclamation and a start of surprise. But of late he had been perpetually
on the look-out for all sorts of unforeseen happenings and he managed to
do no more than show a little natural astonishment.

"What, so soon!" he said. "Dear me, old chap!--I didn't think of its
being this side of Christmas."

"Cotherstone's set on it," answered Bent. "He seems to be turning into a
regular hypochondriac. I hope nothing is really seriously wrong with