"Certainly not," replied Godolphin. "Lady Godolphin is in a very delicate state of health at the moment, and can't abide anyone but her old nurse with her, excepting of course myself."
"How charming," said Rockingham, "how rural and touching. Lady St. Columb, on the contrary, seems to have no women servants about her at all," and he smiled across at Dona, raising his glass, and "How did you enjoy your walk, Dona?" he said, "did you find it wet there in the woods?"
Dona did not answer. Godolphin looked upon her with suspicion, for really if Harry permitted his wife to dally with servants he would soon be the talk of the countryside, and now he came to think of it he remembered an impertinent scrap of a groom driving the carriage the day Harry's wife had taken tea with them. "How is your wife bearing with the heat?" Dona enquired. "I think of her so often," but she did not hear his reply, for Philip Rashleigh was talking in her left ear. "I swear I have seen you before, dear lady," he was saying, "but I cannot for the life of me recollect the time or the place."
And he stared at his plate, wrinkling his brows, as though by force of concentration he would bring back the scene.
"Some more wine for Mr. Rashleigh," said Dona, smiling graciously, pushing his glass towards him. "Yes, I also feel that we have met, but it must have been six years ago, when I came here as a bride."
"No, I'll take my oath on that," said Rashleigh, shaking his head. "It's an inflection in your voice I believe, and I have heard it not so long ago either."
"But Dona has that effect on every man," said Rockingham; "they always feel, after seeing her, that they have known her before. You will find, my dear Rashleigh, that it will keep you awake at night."
"I gather you speak with experience?" said Carnethick, and they exchanged glances, and Rockingham smiled, adjusting the lace at his wrists.
"How I detest him," thought Dona; "those narrow catlike eyes, that meaning smile. He would like every man at this table to believe he makes love to me."
"Were you ever in Fowey?" asked Philip Rashleigh.
"Never to my certain knowledge," she answered, and he drank down his wine, still shaking his head doubtfully.
"You have heard how I was robbed?" he said.
"Yes, indeed," she answered, "so very distressing for you. And you have never had news of your ship since?"
"Never a word," he said bitterly. "Ah, she's snug in a French port by now, with no legal means of extracting her. That's what comes of having a Court packed with foreigners, and a King who speaks better French, by all accounts, than he does English. However, I hope to settle accounts tonight, once and for all."
Dona glanced up at the clock above the stairs. It wanted twenty minutes to midnight. "And you, my lord?" she said, smiling upon Godolphin, "were you also involved in the loss of Mr. Rashleigh's ship?"
"I was, madam," he replied stiffly.
"But I trust you received no hurt?"
"Luckily none. The rascals were too glad to show us their heels. Like every Frenchman, they preferred to run for it rather than face up to an honest fight."
"And was their leader really the desperate man you have led me to believe?"
"Twenty times worse, madam. The most impudent, blood-thirsty, evil-looking rogue I've ever clapped eyes upon. We have heard since that his own ship carried a full complement of women, on every voyage, and most of them, poor wretches, kidnapped from our villages. Needless to say, I have told nothing of this to my wife."
"Naturally not, it might precipitate matters unduly," murmured Dona.
"He had a woman aboard the Merry Fortune," said Philip Rashleigh. "I could see her there on the deck above me, as plain as I see you now. A bold-faced baggage if ever there was one, with a cut on her chin, and her hair all over her eyes. Some harlot from the French docks, no doubt."
"And there was a boy," added Godolphin, "a wretched scrap of a boy who came knocking on Philip's door; I'll take my oath he had a hand in it. He had a whining way of speaking, and a womanish cut about him that was most unpleasing."
"These Frenchmen are so decadent," said Dona.
"They'd never have slipped away from us, but for the wind," snorted Rashleigh; "down came a puff from Readymoney cove, and her sails filled. You'd say it was the work of the devil himself. George here had the villain covered with his musket, but he missed him."
"And how was that, my lord?"
"I was temporarily at a disadvantage, madam," began Godolphin, the colour mounting to his face, and Harry, looking down from the opposite end of the table slapped his hand on his knee and shouted, "We've heard all about it, never fear, George. You lost your wig, didn't you? The rascal of a froggie pinched your wig?" and immediately all eyes turned on Godolphin, who sat stiff as a ramrod, staring at the glass in front of him.
"Take no notice of them, dear Lord Godolphin," smiled Dona, "only have a little more to drink. For what, after all, is the loss of a wig? It might have been something so much more precious, and what would Lady Godolphin do then?" And Rashleigh's neighbour Carnethick, on her left, choked suddenly over his wine.
A quarter to midnight, ten minutes, five minutes to midnight, and there was young Tremayne discussing cock-fighting with Penrose of Tregonny, and a man from Bodmin whose name she had not heard was digging Rockingham in the ribs, whispering some bawdy story behind his hand, and Carnethick was leering at her across the table, and Philip Rashleigh was picking off grapes with a wrinkled hairy hand, and Harry, half lolling in his chair, was singing a song to himself that had no tune, one hand caressing his glass, and the other fondling the spaniel on his lap. But suddenly, Eustick, glancing at the clock, leapt to his feet and called in a voice of thunder, "Gentlemen, we have wasted time enough. Have you all forgotten we have met tonight on very desperate business?"
There was silence at once. Tremayne looked down at his plate, blushing, and Carnethick wiped his mouth with a lace handkerchief, gazing straight in front of him. Someone coughed awkwardly, someone shuffled with his feet under the table, and only Harry continued smiling, humming his tuneless drunken song, and out in the courtyard the stable clock struck midnight. Eustick looked meaningly at his hostess. Dona rose to her feet at once, and "You wish me to go?" she said.
"Nonsense," called Harry, opening one eye, "let my wife stay at her own table, damme. The party will fall flat without her, parties always do. Here's your health, my beautiful, even if you do permit servants in and out of your bedroom."
"Harry, the time for jesting is over," said Godolphin, and turning to Dona, "We could talk more freely if you were not here. As Eustick has just observed, we have all become a little forgetful of our purpose."
"But of course I understand," said Dona, "I would not dream of hindering you in any way," and as they all stood to let her pass, the great bell jangled in the court outside.
"Who the devil's that?" yawned Harry. "Someone two-and-a-half hours late for supper? Let's open another bottle of wine."
"We are all here," said Eustick, "we expect none other. What about you, Godolphin?"
"No, I have warned no one else," frowned Godolphin. "The meeting was a secret one in any case."
Once again the bell jangled. "Go and open the door, someone," shouted Harry. "Where the deuce are all the servants?"
The dog jumped from his knees, and ran barking to the door.
"Thomas, one of you, what are you doing?" called Harry, over his shoulder, and Rockingham, rising, went to the door at the back of the hall that led to the kitchens, and flung it open. "Hullo, there," he cried, "are you all asleep?" but no answer came to him, and the passage was dark and silent.
"Someone has blown the candles," he said. "It's as black as pitch here in the passage. Hullo, there, Thomas."
"What orders did you give your servants, Harry?" said Godolphin, pushing back his chair. "Did you tell them to go to bed?"
"To bed, no," answered Harry, rising unsteadily, "the fellows are waiting in the kitchens somewhere. Give 'em another call, Rock, can't you?"
"I tell you there's no answer," said Rockingham, "and there's not a light anywhere. The kitchen itself yonder is as black as a pit."
The bell jangled for the third time, and Eustick, with an oath, strode towards the door, and began to draw back the bolts.
"It must be one of our people come to report," said Rashleigh, "one of the men we have posted in the woods. Someone has given us away, and the fight's begun."
The door swung open, and Eustick stood on the threshold, calling into the darkness, "Who asks for Navron House?"
"Jean-Benoit Aubery, at the service of all you gentlemen," came the answer, and into the hall walked the Frenchman, a sword in his hand, and a smile on his lips. "Don't move, Eustick," he said, "and the rest of you, stay where you are. I have you covered, all of you. The first man who moves will have a bullet through his brains."
And Dona, looking up the staircase to the gallery above, saw Pierre Blanc with a pistol in his hands, and Edmond Vacquier beside him, while at the door leading to the kitchen stood William, white and inscrutable, one arm hanging useless by his side, the other with a naked cutlass pointing at Rockingham's throat.
"I pray you be seated, gentlemen," said the Frenchman, "and I will not keep you long. As for her ladyship, she may please herself, but first she must give me the rubies she wears in her ears, for I have had a wager about them with my cabin-boy."
And he stood before her, bowing, playing with his sword, while twelve men stared at him in hatred and in fear.
They might have all been dead men, frozen in their seats at the table. No one spoke a word, but every man watched the Frenchman as he stood there smiling, his hand outstretched for the jewels.
Five against twelve, but the five were armed, and the twelve had supped unwisely and too well, and the swords by their sides were sheathed. Eustick still had his hand upon the door, but Luc Dumont from La Mouette stood beside him, pointing a pistol at his ribs, and slowly Eustick closed the door, and drew the bolts into their sockets. Down the staircase from the gallery above came Pierre Blanc and his companion, and they took up positions at either end of the long hall, so that if any man's hand strayed to his sword that man would have fallen, even as their master said. Rockingham leant against the wall, watching the point of William's cutlass, and he passed his tongue over his lips and did not speak. Only the host, who had sunk once again into his chair, surveyed the scene with bland bewilderment, a glass, half-filled with wine, raised to his lips.
Dona unscrewed the rubies from her ears, and laid them in the outstretched hand before her.
"Is that all?" she said.
He pointed with his sword to the pendant around her throat.
"Won't you spare me that as well?" he said, one eyebrow raised, "my cabin-boy will curse me otherwise. And the bracelet on your arm, I must ask you for that too."
She unfastened the bracelet and the pendant, and without a word and without a smile she placed them in his hand.
"Thank you," he said, "I trust you are recovered from your fever?"
"I thought so," she answered, "but your presence here will doubtless bring it back again."
"That would be a pity," he said gravely. "My conscience would be uneasy. My cabin-boy suffers from fever from time to time, but the sea air does wonders for him. You ought to try it." And bowing he placed the jewels in his pocket, and turned away from her.
