deceit. But Jerk was not easily unnerved or put out of countenance. There was something about Mipps that put him on his mettle and stimulated him. He liked Mipps, but he liked to keep even with him, for his own self-respect, which was very great, for in some things Jerry Jerk was most inordinately proud.
"Oh, the Marsh don't approve, eh? And who or what might be the power on the Marsh to tell you so?"
"The great ruler o' the Marsh—the man with no name who successfully runs his schemes and makes his sons prosperous."
"That'll be the squire, then," said Jerry promptly, "for he's the Leveller of Marsh Scotts, ain't he? He makes the laws for the Marshmen, don't he?"
"He does that certainly," agreed the sexton. "But whether or no he's the power what brings luck to the Marshmen—Marshmen, mind you, worthy of the name—neither you nor me nor nobody can tell. Sufficient for us that the Marsh is ruled by a power, a mysterious power, wot brings gold and to spare to the Marshmen's pockets."
"Ah, then," said Jerry, with his eyes blazing, "then I was right. There are smugglers on the Marsh."
"There are," said the sexton; "and it's wealthy men they be, though you'd never guess at it, and darin', adventurous cusses they be, and rollickin' good times they gets, and no danger to speak of, 'cos the whole blessed concern is run by a master brain wot never
