"That is for you to say. Do not forget you have signed your name in my book, and when the mood comes upon you to make your escape even more complete, the creek is accustomed to fugitives."
"I shall not forget."
"There are birds to watch, too, and fishes to catch, and streams to be explored. All these are methods of escape."
"Which you have found successful?"
"Which I have found successful. Thank you for my supper. Good night."
"Good night."
This time the Frenchman did not touch her hand, but went out through the window, without looking back, and she watched him disappear amongst the trees, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat.
CHAPTER VIII
The air was stifling inside the house, and because of his lady's condition Lord Godolphin had commanded that the windows should be shut, and the curtains drawn across them to screen her from the sun. The brightness of midsummer would fatigue her, the soft air might bring a greater pallor to her already languid cheeks. But lying on the sofa, backed with cushions, exchanging small civilities with her friends, the half-darkened room humming with heavy chatter and the warm smell of humanity eating crumbling cake - that could tire nobody. It was both Lord Godolphin's and his lady's idea of relaxation.
"Never again," thought Dona, "never again will I be persuaded forth, whether for Harry's or for conscience's sake, to meet my neighbours," and bending down, feigning an interest in a little lap-dog crouching at her gown, she gave him the damp chunk of cake forced upon her by Godolphin himself. Out of the tail of her eye she saw that her action had been observed, and horror upon horror, here was her host bearing down upon her once again, a fresh assortment in his hands, and she must smile her false, brilliant smile, and bow her thanks and place yet another dripping morsel between her reluctant lips.
"If you could only persuade Harry to forsake the pleasures of the Town," observed Godolphin, "we could have many of these small informal gatherings. With my wife in her present state, a large assembly would be prejudicial to her health, but a few friends, such as we have today, can do her nothing but good. I greatly regret that Harry is not here." He looked about him, satisfied with his hospitality, and Dona, drooping upon her chair, counted once again the fifteen or sixteen persons in the room, who, weary of each other's company over too great a span of years, watched her with apathetic interest. The ladies observed her gown, the new long gloves she played with on her lap, and the hat with the sweeping feather that concealed her right cheek. The men stared dumbly, as though in the front seats at a playhouse, and one or two, with heavy jovial humour, questioned her about the life at Court, and the pleasures of the King, as though the very fact of her coming from London gave her full knowledge of his life and of his habits. She hated gossip for gossip's sake, and though she might have told them much, had she the mind, of the froth and frivolity from which she had escaped, the artificial painted London, the link-boys with their flares tiptoeing through the dusty cobbled streets, the swaggering gallants standing at the doors of the taverns laughing a little too loudly and singing over-much, that roystering, rather tipsy atmosphere presided over by someone with a brain he would not use, a dark roving eye and a sardonic smile, she kept silent, saying instead how much she loved the country. "It is a great pity that Navron is so isolated," said somebody, "you must find it wretchedly lonely after town. If only we were all a little nearer to you, we could meet more often."
"How kind of you," said Dona. "Harry would greatly appreciate the thought. But, alas, the road is exceedingly bad to Navron. I had great difficulty in coming here today. And then, you see, I am a most devoted mother. My children absorb nearly all my time."
She smiled upon the company, her eyes large and very innocent, and even as she spoke there came a sudden vision to her mind of the boat that would be waiting for her at Gweek, the fishing-lines coiled on the bottom boards, and the man who would be idling there, with coat thrown aside, and sleeves rolled up above the elbows.
"I consider you show remarkable courage," sighed her ladyship, "in living there all alone, and your husband absent. I find I become uneasy if mine is away for a few hours in the daytime."
"That is perhaps excusable, under the circumstances," murmured Dona, quelling an insane desire to laugh, to say something monstrous, for the thought of Lady Godolphin languishing here upon her sofa, and aching for her lord, with that distressing growth upon his nose so wretchedly conspicuous, moved her to wickedness.
"You are, I trust, amply protected at Navron," said Godolphin, turning to her, solemnly. "There is much licence and lawlessness abroad these days. You have servants you can trust?"
"Implicitly."
"It is as well. Had it been otherwise I should have presumed upon my old friendship with Harry, and sent you two or three of my own people."
"I assure you it would be entirely unnecessary."
"So you may think. Some of us believe differently."
He looked across at his nearest neighbour, Thomas Eustick, who owned a large estate beyond Penryn - a thin-lipped man with narrow eyes - who had been watching Dona from the other side of the room. He now came forward, and with him also was Robert Penrose, from Tregony. "Godolphin has told you, I think, how we are menaced from the sea," he said abruptly.
"By an elusive Frenchman," smiled Dona.
"Who may not remain elusive very much longer," replied Eustick.
"Indeed? Have you summoned more soldiers from Bristol?"
He flushed, glancing at Godolphin in irritation.
"This time there will be no question of hired mercenaries," he said. "I was against that idea from the first, but as usual was overruled. No, we propose dealing with the foreigner ourselves, and I consider our methods will be effective."
"Providing enough of us join together," said Godolphin drily.
"And the most capable amongst us takes the lead," said Penrose, of Tregony. There was a pause, the three men eyeing one another in suspicion. Had the atmosphere, for some reason or other, become a little strained?
"A house divided against itself will not stand," murmured Dona.
"I beg your pardon?" said Thomas Eustick.
"Nothing. I was reminded suddenly of a line from the Scriptures. But you were talking about the pirate. One against so many. He will be caught, of course. And what is the plan of capture?"
"It is as yet in embryo, madam, and naturally enough cannot be unfolded. But I would warn you, and I rather think that is what Godolphin meant just now when he enquired about your servants, I would warn you that we suspect some of the country people in the district to be in the Frenchman's pay." "You astound me."
"It is unpardonable, of course, and if our suspicions are verified they will all of them hang, as he will. The fact is we believe the Frenchman to have a hiding-place along the coast, and we believe one or two of the inhabitants must know of this, and are holding their tongues."
"Have you not made a thorough search?"
"My dear Lady St. Columb, we are forever combing the district. But, as you must have heard, the fellow is as slippery as an eel, like all Frenchmen, and he appears to know our coast better than we do ourselves. You have, I suppose, seen nothing of a suspicious nature around Navron?"
"Nothing whatever."
"The manor commands a view of the river, does it not?"
"A most excellent view."
"So that you would have seen any strange craft entering or leaving the estuary?"
"Most assuredly."
"I have no wish to alarm you, but it is possible, you know, that the Frenchman has used Helford in the past, and may yet do so again."