Part 19 (1/2)

”I don't know. Perhaps he isn't one. Perhaps he is a smuggler himself. Maybe he is the one who is taking over the smuggling ring. Maybe he killed Nat Crowder, too.”

”That is the silliest thing I ever heard of!” Camilla retorted, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”Benedict is not a smuggler or a killer! I won't have you saying such things about him.”

”It isn't as if he is really your husband,” Anthony pointed out. ”Egad, we better hope he is not the killer or a smuggler, for then you'd really be in the suds. What if he got arrested for murder, and here's everyone thinking that he is your husband?''

”Well, they won't, because he won't get arrested. He is not a killer.”

”I am not taking the chance and turning this man over to him.”

”But if he is a customs officer, he-”

”Camilla! Don't you see? I think this fellow is a smuggler.”

”What?” Camilla looked back down at her patient, then at Anthony. ”But I've never seen him before. He isn't from around here.”

”No. But I saw him the other night when I was helping to unload the boat.”

”What? How do you know it was he?”

”He has a ring.”

”What?”

Anthony picked up the man's rough coat and dug in the pocket, pulling forth a piece of twine tied into a necklace. A man's gold ring dangled from one end of it.

”Oh, my.” Camilla reached out and took the ring in her hand, bringing it closer. The design was of a serpent swallowing its tail. Emerald chips glittered as its eyes. ”This looks expensive.”

”I would not think that he is a peasant, no.”

”Was he wearing it?”

”Not on his hand. He must have known how that would stick out among the others. But once, when he bent over to pick up a barrel, it fell out from the neck of his s.h.i.+rt, and I saw it. He quickly stuffed it back in. Of course, I couldn't see the design, but when I found this man with the ring on a cord around his neck, I was certain that it had to be he.”

”But why was he with the smugglers? He's not from around here. And he's carrying that expensive ring....

”He could be a gentleman smuggler.”

”Two at the same place?” Camilla retorted sarcastically. ”I think that is unlikely.”

A little reluctantly, Anthony went on. ”I- Well, he was on the boat when they came to sh.o.r.e. I think he came with the brandy.”

”Came with it? You mean from France?”

He nodded. ”When I came back last night, he had a fever. He was asleep, but he was mumbling in his sleep. He said, well, I don't know what it was, but I think he spoke in French.”

Camilla felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She sat back on her heels, staring at her cousin. ”He's a Frenchman? Are you saying that this man is a spy?”

Chapter 13.

”I don't know,” Anthony answered wretchedly. ”I could hardly believe it when I heard it. When he spoke to me, he didn't have a French accent. But I am certain it was French that came out in his sleep.”

”Then you must turn him in!”

”But what if he is not a spy? What if I was wrong, or-or he's Belgian? And there must be Englishmen who can speak French.”

”Can, yes. I can myself. But I don't go mumbling it in my sleep. That is the sort of thing you do when it is your native tongue.”

”Even if he is French, it doesn't mean that he is a spy,” Anthony went on stubbornly.

”What else would he be? We are at war with them.”

”It could mean that he is escaping from France. That he is against Bonaparte, even that Bonaparte tried to arrest him, say, and he had to flee. That would explain him being with the smugglers. He paid them to bring him over with the cargo.”

”He could have paid them to do that if he was a spy, too. That is no proof. Anthony, this is awful.” She looked back down at the man. ”We cannot let him run about free in England, no matter how much compa.s.sion we might feel for him.”

”I don't think he is going to run about anywhere, at least not anytime soon.”

Their patient did look undeniably helpless at the moment. Camilla wavered. It seemed inhuman to give him up to the authorities, as weak and ill as he was right now. If they turned him in, whoever had tried to kill him before would know exactly where he was and could try again. And Anthony was right in saying that the magistrate would be of little help and even less protection to the man. Oh, she wished that she could ask Benedict for his advice! She did not stop to question why she should rely so much on the opinion of a man she had met only a few days ago.

”There's not even anything to arrest him for,” Anthony pointed out. ”All we know that he has done is get attacked. So they might not even put him in jail. We would probably still be taking care of him at the house, only everyone would know about it.”

Anthony could see that he was making headway, so he went on in a wheedling voice, ”Please, Milla. Let's just see what happens, how he does. Right now, we're not even sure he will survive to be turned in. And it may be that if he comes out of the fever, he will tell us all about himself and how he got to be here. There may be a perfectly safe explanation for his speaking French.”

”All right.” Camilla sighed and stood up. She had finished rebandaging the man's wounds. ”I have done all I can do for him. That paste may help the wounds. He will need to take this draft periodically, though, for his fever. Can you tend to him? I can't be missing all day, or everyone will wonder. Especially Benedict.”

Anthony nodded. ”Yes. I will row you over to the mainland, then come back here and sit with him today. I'll just lock the door to my bedroom and put it out that I am ill. Will you come back later, when the tide is low?”

”Yes. I will sneak away this afternoon to check on him.” She sighed, casting a last look at the man on the floor. ”Promise that you will keep yourself armed when you are sitting with him?”

Her cousin rolled his eyes. ”Honestly, Camilla! The man is so weak he can barely lift a hand. What do you think he could do to me?”

”I don't know,” Camilla snapped back. ”I just know that he is perhaps French, perhaps a spy-and that no one knows anything about his being here except you and I. It is a dangerous situation. If you won't have the sense to be careful, then I shall have-”

”All right, all right...” Anthony playfully laid his hand across her mouth, chuckling. ”I promise I will always be armed around him. And I will watch him like a hawk. I have no desire to let a French spy loose in the country, either. Now, come.” He curled his arm around her shoulders and began to steer her toward the door. ”We had better get you back to the house.”

As soon as they reached the house, Camilla hurried to her bedroom, while Anthony went to the kitchen and his room to gather supplies for his day on Keep Island. Camilla was disappointed to find that Benedict was not in the room, for she had hoped that she would be able to slip back into bed unnoticed.

Instead, she dressed and went downstairs to the dining room. She hated having to lie to Benedict, and she wanted to get the story over with as soon as possible. She paused at the doorway, looking in, and was relieved to see that he was breakfasting alone. Pasting on a smile, she sailed into the room.

”Good morning, Benedict.”

He turned at her words and jumped up, his brows drawing together fiercely. ”Where the devil have you been? I was beginning to worry.”

His words brought her up short. She had braced herself for his curiosity, but not for worry. ”You mustn't,” she replied. ”I was with Anthony.”