s
killed by a stray shot fired by the Posse from the cliff. And when they
took the hue-and-cry papers to the Manor House for his lass, as next of
kin, to sign the requisition, she would not set her name to it, saying
that Block had never lifted his hand against her father when they met at
Moonfleet or on the road, and that she never would believe he was the man
to let his anger sleep so long and then attack an enemy in cold blood.
And as for thee, she knew thee for a trusty lad, who would not do such
things himself, nor yet stand by whilst others did them.'

Now what Ratsey said was sweeter than any music in my ears, and I felt
myself a better man, as anyone must of whom a true woman speaks well, and
that I must live uprightly to deserve such praise. Then I resolved that
come what might I would make my way once more to Moonfleet, before we
fled from England, and see Grace; so that I might tell her all that
happened about her father's death, saving only that Elzevir had meant
himself to put Maskew away; for it was no use to tell her this when she
had said that he could never think to do such a thing, and besides, for
all I knew, he never did mean to shoot, but only to frighten him. Though
I thus resolved, I said nothing of it to Master Ratsey, but only nodded,
and he went on--

'Well, seeing there was no one save this poor girl to look to putting
Maskew under ground, I must needs take it in hand myself; roughing
together a sound coffin and digging as fair a grave for him as could be
made for any lord, except that lords have always vaults to sleep in. Then
I got Mother Nutting's fish-cart to carry the body down, for there was
not a man in Moonfleet would lay hand to the coffin to bear it; and off
we started down the street, I leading the wall-eyed pony, and the coffin
following on the trolley. There was no mourner to see him home except his
daughter, and she without a bit of black upon her, for she had no time to
get her crapes; and yet she needed none, having grief writ plain enough
upon her face.

'When we got to the churchyard, a crowd was gathered there, men and women
and children, not only from Moonfleet but from Ringstave and Monkbury.
They were not come to mourn, but to make gibes to show how much they
hated him, and many of the children had old pots and pans for rough
music. Parson Glennie was waiting in the church, and there he waited, for
the cart could not pass the gate, and we had no bearers to lift the
cof