Daphne Dumorier Fullscreen French creek (1941)

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"What a pity it is that I cannot see him, and so give a strictly accurate description of him to His Majesty."

"You will not come then tomorrow?"

"Alas, no.

I go to rejoin Harry and the children."

"I suppose," said Lord Godolphin, "that I could permit you a glimpse of the rascal in his cell.

But I understood from Harry that after the tragedy the other night you could scarcely abide to speak of the fellow - that he had so terrified you in short, that…"

"Today, Lord Godolphin, is so different from the other night.

I have you to protect me, and the Frenchman is unarmed.

I would like to paint a picture to His Majesty of the notorious pirate, caught and put to death by the most faithful of his Cornish subjects."

"Then you shall, madam, you shall.

When I think what you might have endured at his hands, I would willingly hang him three times over.

I believe it was the excitement and alarm of the whole affair that precipitated her ladyship's confinement."

"Most probably," said Dona gravely, and seeing that he still would talk of the matter, and might even yet plunge into domestic details which she understood more thoroughly than he did himself, she added,

"Let us go now, then, while the physician is with your wife."

Before he could protest, she walked out of the salon to the hall, and so to the steps before the house, and he was forced to accompany her, glancing up at the windows of the house as he did so.

"My poor Lucy," he said, "if only I could have spared her this ordeal."

"You should have thought of that nine months ago, my lord," she answered, and he stared at her, greatly embarrassed and shocked, and murmured something about having hoped for years for a son and heir.

"Which I am sure she will give you," smiled Dona, "even if you have ten daughters first."

And here they were at the keep, standing in the small stone entrance, where two men were standing, armed with muskets, and another was seated on a bench before a table.

"I have promised Lady St. Columb a glance at our prisoner," said Godolphin, and the man at the table looked up and grinned.

"He won't be fit for a lady to see this time tomorrow my lord," he said, and Godolphin laughed loudly.

"No, that is why her ladyship has come today."

The guard led the way up the narrow stone stairway, taking a key from his chain, and

"There is no other door," thought Dona, "no other stair. And the men below there, always on guard."

The key turned in the lock, and once again her heart began to beat, foolishly, ridiculously, as it always did whenever she was about to look on him.

The jailer threw open the door, and she stepped inside, with Godolphin behind her, and then the jailer withdrew, locking the door upon them.

He was sitting at a table, as he had done the first time she had seen him, and on his face was the same absorbed expression that he had worn then, intent upon his occupation, thinking of nothing else, so that Godolphin, put out of countenance by his prisoner's indifference, thumped his hand on the table and said sharply,

"Stand up, can't you, when I choose to visit you?"

The indifference was no play, as Dona knew, for so intent was the Frenchman upon his drawing, that he had not known the footstep of Godolphin from the jailer.

He pushed the drawing aside - it was a curlew, Dona saw, flying across an estuary towards the open sea - and then for the first time he saw her, and making no sign of recognition, he stood up, and bowed, and said nothing.

"This is Lady St. Columb," said Godolphin stiffly, "who, disappointed that she cannot see you hanged tomorrow, wishes to take one of your drawings back to town with her, so that His Majesty may have a souvenir of one of the biggest blackguards that ever troubled his faithful subjects."

"Lady St. Columb is very welcome," said the prisoner. "Having had little else to do during the last few days, I can offer her a fair selection.

What is your favourite bird, madam?"

"That," answered Dona, "is something I can never decide. Sometimes I think it is a night-jar."

"I regret I cannot offer you a night-jar," he said, rummaging amongst the papers on the table. "You see, when I last heard one, I was so intent upon another occupation that I did not observe the night-jar as clearly as I might have done."

"You mean," said Godolphin sternly, "that you were so intent upon robbing one of my friends of his possessions for your personal gratification that you gave no thought to any other distraction."

"My lord," bowed the captain of La Mouette, "I have never before heard the occupation in question so delicately described."

Dona turned over the drawings on the table.

"Here is a herring gull," she said, "but I think you have not given him his full plumage."

"The drawing is unfinished, madam," he replied, "this particular sea-gull dropped one of its feathers in flight.

If you know anything about the species you will remember, however, that they seldom venture far to sea.

This particular gull, for instance, is probably only ten miles from the coast at the present moment."

"No doubt," said Dona, "and then tonight he will return again to the shore, in search of the feather he has lost."

"Your ladyship knows little of ornithology," said Godolphin.

"For my part I have never heard of a seagull or any other bird picking up feathers."

"I had a feather mattress as a child," said Dona, talking rather quickly, and smiling at Godolphin, "and I remember the feathers became loose after a while, and one of them fluttered from the window of my bedroom and fell into the garden below.

Of course the window was a large one, not like the slit that gives light to this cell."

"Oh, of course," answered his lordship, a little puzzled, and he glanced at her doubtfully, wondering if she still had a touch of fever, for surely she sounded a little light in the head.

"Did they ever blow under the door?" enquired the prisoner.

"Ah, that I can't remember," said Dona, "I think that even a feather would have difficulty in passing beneath a door… unless of course it was given assistance, like a strong breath of air, you know, say the draught from a barrel of a pistol. But I have not chosen my drawing.