But he says he thinks he will soon have his hand on the local accomplice--a Mellor man--a man named Hurd: not one of our labourers, I think." "Hurd!" cried Marcella, in dismay.

"Oh no, it _can't_ be--impossible!" Lord Maxwell looked at her in astonishment.
"Do you know any Hurds?
I am afraid your father will find that Mellor is a bad place for poaching." "If it is, it is because they are so starved and miserable," said Marcella, trying hard to speak coolly, but excited almost beyond bounds by the conversation and all that it implied.

"And the Hurds--I don't believe it a bit! But if it were true--oh! they have been in such straits--they were out of work most of last winter; they are out of work now, No one _could_ grudge them.

I told you about them, didn't I ?" she said, suddenly glancing at Aldous.

"I was going to ask you to-day, if you could help them ?" Her prophetess air had altogether left her.