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Updated: May 17, 2025
"You're a silly old ass," burst out Grimbal roughly. "There's nothing worth naming the matter with you, and you know it better than we do. The Devil looks after his own, seemingly. Any other man would have been killed ten times over." Billy whined and even wept at this harsh reproof. "Ban't a very fair way to speak to an auld gunpowder-blawn piece, like what I be now," he said; "gormed if 't is."
And I'm sorry I thrawed 'e; but you was that glumpy, and of course I didn't know 'e from Adam. I'm Will Blanchard." "Never mind, Will, we'll try again some day. I could wrestle a bit once, and learned a new trick or two from a Yankee in Africa." "You've come back 'mazin' rich they say, Jan Grimbal?" "So, so. Not millionaires, but all right both of us, though I'm the snug man of the two.
In matters of the world and in knowledge of such human character as shall be found to congregate in civilisation's van, or where precious metals and precious stones have been discovered to abound, John Grimbal was undoubtedly the shrewder, more experienced man; and Martin felt very well content that his elder brother should take the lead.
I'll give you six weeks to decide about it." John Grimbal waited, hoping that Hicks might yet change his mind before he took his leave; but the bee-keeper made no answer. His companion therefore broke into a sharp trot and left him.
John Grimbal saw how much easier it was to deceive another than himself, and, before the spectacle of his deluded brother, felt that he appreciated his own real motives and incentives at their true worth. The more completely was Martin hoodwinked, the more apparent did the truth grow within John's mind.
A mental exhaustion and nausea overtook him. Upon the night of his discovery he retired to sleep wishing that Blanchard would be as good as his rumoured word and get out of England. But this thought took a shape of reality in the tattered medley of dreams, and Grimbal, waking, leapt on to the floor in frantic fear that his enemy had escaped him.
Just within the woods of Teign Valley, at a point not far distant from that where Will Blanchard met John Grimbal for the first time, and wrestled with him beside the river, there rises a tall bank, covered with fern, shadowed by oak trees. A mossy bridle-path winds below, while beyond it, seen through a screen of wych-elms and hazel, extend the outlying meadows of Monks Barton.
The sudden consternation bred in Hicks by this question astounded him not a little. Indeed, each man amazed the other, Grimbal by his question, Hicks by the attitude which he assumed before it. "I'm sure I haven't the least idea," he answered; but his voice and manner had already told Grimbal all he cared to learn at the moment; and that was more than his wildest hopes had even risen to.
They sank into silence and set Will wondering as to what they might mean. Then another sound, that of a galloping horse and the crisp ring of wheels, reached him, and, believing that John Grimbal was come, he strung himself to the matter in hand. But the vehicle did not stop. A flash of yellow light leapt through the distance as a mail-cart rattled past upon its way to Moreton.
Here was a red-hot raving Nemesis indeed; and Will, while prepared for a speedy meeting with his enemy, neither expected nor desired an encounter just then. But it had come, and he knew what was before him. Grimbal, just returned from a long day's sport, rode back to his hotel in a good temper.
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