Part 14 (2/2)

There was great trouble too in her eyes.

”Madam,” I said, gently, ”I never thought that this would prove a schoolboy's game. If I had thought so, I should be this instant walking down St. James's. But you overrate my peril.”

I saw her draw herself erect.

”No; it is I who will propose the bargain and make the conditions. It is I who will charge them with their piracy.”

”How?” I asked.

”I will go this morning to the Palace Inn.”

”George Glen went out this morning before I rose.”

She looked over to Norwithel.

”There is no one to-day on Norwithel,” said I.

”I shall find Peter Tortue on the Castle Down.”

”But I crossed the Castle Down this morning----” and I suddenly stopped. There had been no one watching on the Castle Down. There was no one anywhere upon the watch to-day. The significance of this omission struck me then for the first time.

”What if already we are quit of them!” I cried. ”What if that one tiny word _Royal Fortune_ has sent them at a scamper into hiding?”

Helen caught something of my excitement.

”Oh! if it only could be so!” she exclaimed.

”Most like it _is_ so,” I returned. ”No man cutting ore-weed upon Norwithel! No man lounging on the Castle Down! It must be so!” and we shook hands upon that likelihood as though it was a certainty. We started guiltily apart the next moment, for a servant came into the garden with word that d.i.c.k Parmiter had sailed round in a boat from New Grimsby, and was waiting for me.

”There is something new!” said Helen, clasping her hands over her heart, and in a second she was all anxiety. I hastened to rea.s.sure her. d.i.c.k had come at my bidding, for I was minded to sail over to St.

Mary's, and discover if there was anywhere upon that island a record of the doings of the _Royal Fortune_. To that end I asked Helen to give me a letter to the chaplain there, who would be likely to know more of what happened up and down the world than the natives of the islands. I was not, however, to allow that I had any particular interest in the matter, lest the Rev. Mr. Milray should smell a rat as they say, and on promising to be very exact in this particular and to return to the house in time for supper, I was graciously given the letter.

I found the Rev. Mr. Milray in his parsonage at Old Town, a small, elderly man, who would talk of nothing but the dampness of his house since the great wave which swept over this neck of land on the day of the earthquake at Lisbon. I left him very soon, therefore, and went about another piece of business.

I had travelled from London with no more clothes and linen than a small valise would hold. On setting out, I had not considered, indeed, that I should be thrown much into the company of a lady, but only that I was journeying into a rough company of fisher-folk. Yesterday, however, it had occurred to me that I must make some addition to my wardrobe and the necessity was yet more apparent to-day. I was pleased, therefore, to find that Hugh Town was of greater importance than I had thought it to be. It is much shrunk and dwindled now, but then s.h.i.+ps from all quarters of the world were continually putting in there, so that they made a trade by themselves, and there was always for sale a great store of things which had been salved from wrecks. I was able, therefore, to fit myself out very properly.

I sailed back to the Palace Inn, dressed with some care, and walked over to sup at Merchant's Rock--little later perhaps. Helen Mayle was standing in the hall by the foot of the stairs. I saw her face against the dark panels as I entered, and it looked very white and strained with fear.

”There is no news of Cullen at St. Mary's,” I said, to lighten her fears; and she showed an extravagant relief, before, indeed, she could barely have heard the words. Her face coloured brightly and then she began to laugh. Finally she dropped me a curtsey.

”Shall I lend you some hair-powder?” she asked, whimsically; and when we were seated at table, ”How old are you?”

”I was thirty and more a month ago,” said I, ”but I think that I am now only twenty-two.”

”As much as that?” said she, with a laugh, and grew serious in an instant. ”What did you discover at St. Mary's besides a milliner?”

”Nothing,” said I, ”except that the Rev. Milray suffers from the rheumatics.”

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