"What did you think," she said, "when I did not come for breakfast?"
"There was little time to think," he answered, "because I was woken just after sunrise by Pierre Blanc, to tell me La Mouette was aground, and taking in water.
We have had the devil's own time with her, as you can imagine.
And then, later on, when we were all stripped to the waist and working on her, William came down with your news."
"But you did not know then, what was being planned for - tonight?"
"No, but I soon had a shrewd suspicion.
One of my men saw a figure on the beach, up the river, and another in the hills opposite.
And we knew then, that we were working against time. Even so, they had not found La Mouette. They were guarding the river and the woods, but they had not come down to the creek."
"And then William came the second time?"
"Yes, between five and six this evening.
He warned me of your party here at Navron, and I decided then what I should do.
I told him of course, but that cut he received from the fellow in the woods on his way back to you did not help much."
"I kept thinking of him, during supper, lying wounded and fainting on my bed."
"Yes, but he dragged himself to the window, all the same, to admit us, just as we had planned.
Your servants, by the way, are all shut up in your game larder, tied back-to-back, like the fellows we found on the Merry Fortune.
Do you want your trinkets back again?" He felt in his pocket for her jewels, but she shook her head.
"You had better keep them," she said, "to remember me by."
He said nothing, but looked over her head, stroking her curls.
"La Mouette will sail within two hours, if all goes well," he said. "The patch in her side is rough, but it must hold until she reaches the French coast."
"What of the weather?" she asked.
"The wind is fair and steady enough.
We should reach Brittany in eighteen hours or less."
Dona was silent, and he went on touching her hair.
"I have no cabin-boy," he said. "Do you know of a likely lad who would sail with me?"
She looked at him then, but he was not smiling any more, and he moved away from her, and picked up his sword.
"I shall have to take William, I'm afraid," he said. "He has played his part at Navron, and your household will know him no longer.
He has served you well, has he not?"
"Very well," she answered.
"If it were not for the scrap he had tonight with Eustick's man, I would have left him," he said, "but recognition would come swift and fast, and Eustick would have hanged him without scruple.
Besides, I hardly think he would have stayed to serve your husband."
He glanced about the room, his eyes alighting for a foment on Harry's portrait, and then he walked to the long window, and flung it open, drawing back the curtains.
"Do you remember the first night I supped with you?" he said, "and afterwards you stared into the fire, and I drew your picture.
You were angry with me, were you not?"
"No," she said, "not angry. Only ashamed, because you guessed too much."
"I will tell you one thing," he said, "you will never make a fisherman.
You are too impatient. You will keep getting tangled up in your line."
Someone knocked at the door, and
"Yes?" he called in French, "have the gentlemen done what I commanded them?"
"They have, monsieur," answered William, through the door.
"Very well then.
Tell Pierre Blanc to tie their hands behind their backs, and escort them to the bedrooms above. Close the doors upon them and turn the keys.
They will not trouble us for two hours, which will give me the time we need."
"Very good, monsieur."
"And William?"
"Monsieur?"
"How is your arm?"
"A trifle painful, monsieur, but not seriously so."
"That is good. Because I want you to take her ladyship by carriage to that spit of sand three miles this side of Coverack."
"Yes, monsieur."
"And there await my further orders."