It was not merely a matter of a long free stride and a high-held head and the childish way she beamed on the performers. I could not doubt that she was of ancient lineage, her form and face and dress indicating good breeding and wealth, but I thought she was highborn in the only sense I believed, as are poets and men of high bravery and women of great beauty. It was a mystery of the spirit's manifestation in mortality. Her linking in my mind with the tall brown maiden who followed me at the Wells of the Rising Moon did not fail because of her bright blondness. Many English blondes appeared colorless, as though bleached instead of tinted; on this girl color had been poured as on the feathers of a golden pheasant. She shone in a crowd or would glimmer in the forest, and she was always a little conscious and proud of it, as was Isabel of her royalty.
I watched her with flooding joy until she happened to catch my eye. Her face fell as had the clown's, so I quickly turned away. But later I asked Alan if he had seen her, and if so, what was her name?
"No one could help but see her," he replied. "No, I don't know her name, but I can find out. She was with Lord Bray's granddaughter—the Brays live near Milton Abbey—I suppose she's visiting her."
"It was idle curiosity, so don't bother to inquire."
The last of the day's events was most strange. It happened late in the afternoon when the throngs were thinning out, and its meaning that I grasped seemed only part of a greater meaning beyond my ken. I stood among some trees, out of the way of the crowds, when a farm wife of about forty, ordinary-looking to a casual glance, dropped behind her children and husband and came to me with a hurried step. I noticed now a deep sensitivity in her face and rather strange wide eyes.
"Mr. Holgar Blackburn?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You're not, you know."
"What?"
"Holgar lived neighbor to us. We were only childhood sweethearts, but I never loved anyone as I loved him. I knew his walk. It was like no other. I know he's dead and you've taken his name, but not his riches because he could never have none."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing. I won't tell nobody in this world. I don't know what your reason is, but I know it's a good reason. Good-by."
She turned quickly and vanished in the throng.
CHAPTER 26
The Baring of the Blade
In the Weald, on the border between Kent and Surrey, by the village of Hudleigh, and not far from the fashionable resort of Tun-bridge Wells, lay the manor of Elveshurst, the most desirable of all the country seats which Alan had surveyed. It lay only thirty crow-flight miles from London Bridge. It contained five thousand acres, a thousand of which were in crop, the rest being wild pasture, forest, and ponds. Several streams offered trout fishing and otter hunting, and these debouched into a short, bold tributary of the Medway, the best salmon waters hereabouts. Water fowl were abundant in season; snipe used the fens in great numbers; and the seat was famous in seven shires for its countless coveys of partridge. Since time immemorial, the Carronade Hunt, whose M.F.H. was Squire Hudleigh of Hudleigh, had counted on Elveshurst for its strongest foxes and best runs.
Its price was so moderate that I saw little chance of loss. Still I did not close the deal at once, for Jim was enroute to England. He arrived in early August, looking fine and fit and almost venerable in his old-fashioned broadcloth suit. At the Albion Hotel after supper, I asked him to tell his story in his own way.
"The fust thing I done was to send word to the Beni Kabir to take El Stedoro to Alexander, like the old sheik promised you. The last thing was to go to Alexander, to see if he'd done come. He had, and I fixed for him to be shipped on an East Indiaman comin' into London in about two week."
"How was he?"
"He looked mighty big and raw-boned, and he wa'n't no beauty, but I never seen a boss cay hisself like he do."
"He's six years old and ought to be getting into his prime. Did you hear any news of the Beni Kabir?"
"The only one I talked to was Zaal, the sheik's nephew. He say the people all doin' fine."
"I don't doubt they are."
"Now I'll tell you what I found out at Malta. I hung around the Turkish quarter till I got acquainted good. Pretty soon I beared of a Greek, what dey call Paulos, who used to be clerk to de harbor mas'. In 'em days he made a lot o' money on de side. One of de Turk hint 'at he make it passin' on to spies whey de ships gwine when dey leave Malta. Paulos, he take to smokin' bhang and down in de gutter, but I go see him and buy him some bhang but not 'nuff to satisfy him. When he want mo', I get him to talk pitty good. His mind clear as a bell when de bhang take hold, he 'member heap o' t'ing. De main spy was a Spaniard workin' for de French. But wif my keepin' at him, 1 find out dey was a Maltese, dey call him Julius, who spy for de reis effendis in Tripoli, Tunis, and Algiers. De bad luck was, dis Julius, he daid."
"There was bound to be some bad luck. Go on."
"When Julius hear something de pirate want to know, he send word by a real fast boat, who make out she a Dago fisherman, to Linosa, de island at lay only a night's sail if de wind fair. All de pirates pass by Linosa, and de Dago's pard, he signal from de shore wif mirrors or lights plain as writin' on a paper. Sometime when it look safe, de pirate come up to Gozo in de night, not two hours' run from Valletta. Murad Reis, he done it the day before we sail. De Dago done carry him word 'at de huntin' gwine to be good."
"How do you know, Jim?"
"De Dago 'fess it if I give him a hundred pounds. But if I ever tell de provost it was my word agin his. And 'twas de Dago 'at tell him to watch for us by Aegadian Island."
Jim looked down, unspeakable sadness in his face, twirling a ring he had made from the Pharaoh's gold on whose seal he had engraved the letter V.
"Did the Dago tell you who sent the messages?"
"He say he know mighty well it was de little lord, but he can't prove it. De one who deal wif him was de Maltese dey called Juhus, and he daid."
I thought of something like a distant move in a game of chess.
"How did you find out JuHus was dead?"
"I didn't have no easy time findin' it out. Dago thought he was alive somewheres. De Greek JPaulos, he say Julius went to Syracuse, and maybe he die in de plague, but he change his name 'fore then, and Paulos didn't know for sho. I went to Syracuse, lookin' for him, and it was jus' a piece of luck I run into a Turkish opium peddler who knowed JuHus. He say Julius git away from de plague but was stabbed to death and robbed in Athens. He seen his corpse wif his own eyes."
"Did you tell Paulos or the Dago?"
"No, Cap'n. Bof of 'em would be too glad to know it."
"Is there anything more?"
"A small dark young man meet Juhus about free o'clock in the morning of de day befo' we sail in a wine shop in Notabile. De Dago say he was de lord's son, Dick."
"Had Harvey Alford, Sir Godwine's aide, anything to do with it?"
"Dey was a young EngHshman, wif yaller hair, mighty handsome, who come along and hang outside de wine shop when Dick talk to Julius."