My bite is sure!” quoth Joshua. “I warrant me!”
Downstairs the inn was quiet, for it was late into the evening now. Joshua might have got away with none to see his flight, but chose instead to stumble into the sleepy tapster. He executed a well-feigned start, and let fly a French oath. “Sangdieu!” A ducat was pressed into the tapster’s hand. “You do not see me,” said Joshua. “Eh?”
“I see you very plainly,” said the tapster, agape.
“That is not how it runs. Look you!” He took the tapster’s ear between finger and thumb, and whispered. “Word’s brought my master’s clapped up. Do you take me now? Well, he will be free soon enough, I suppose, but I’ll not be here to see it.” He looked slyly. “There’s a little farm in Picardy, and a rare wench to be won—if a man had the means.” He patted the moneybags slung about his waist; indeed he fairly staggered under the weight of them. “I don’t let opportunity slip, Mother of God!”
The tapster was bemused. He twisted his ear free. “What’s this? Your master clapped up?”
“Some idle talk of his being El Beauvallet. Ho-ho, a very likely tale! Think I, it’s some enemy has put this on him, for he’s known the length and breadth of France for a Guise. But these are not matters for me. I’m for the Frontier, and a good riddance to a bad master!”
The tapster was left to blink after him. He shook his head, making nothing of all this mysterious talk, and yawned, and wondered what o’clock it might be. Joshua got clear away while he was still wondering.
There was one other who was concerned in this capture, one who had also a part to play, and was warily mindful of it. The party at Noveli’s house broke up swiftly, but not before many guests had crowded round Doña Dominica to hear what she might have to say.
In her heart was despair, for the hawk was snared, but she could still do what she might to aid him. Courage mounted; she set to fanning herself, and forced her pale lips into a smile of incredulity. “Señors, I have no more to say than what I have said. If this man is El Beauvallet he is changed indeed since last I saw him, I grant you a like colouring, but for the rest—Madre de Dios, if you but knew the pirate, and had heard his abominable Spanish!” She tinkled a laugh, became aware of her aunt close beside her, and turned. “Well, señora, your poor Chevalier is fallen upon an evil hour indeed!” She sank her voice. “Perinat—” She looked significantly, and touched her forehead. “Ever since he lost his ship he has been—strange in the head on this one subject.” She nodded wisely.
Don Diego made as if to speak, but his mother interposed. “I have not been so entertained for many a long day,” she said. “I am for my bed now. I suppose we shall hear more of this in the morning. Come, my dear. Do you follow us, Don Diego?”
He waved them away; he had still much to say, and was burning to say it. “Presently, señora. Do not wait upon my coming.”
Doña Beatrice led her niece to make her curtsey to their hostess.
There was a battle to be fought now, harder than the skirmish that had just passed, Dominica knew well. As they jolted homewards in the bumping coach Don Rodriguez was left to talk as he pleased. Doña Beatrice lay back against the cushions, and allowed him to run on. He exclaimed, wondered, surmised to his fidgetty heart’s content, and his niece put in a word where she might.
They reached the Casa Carvalho. Doña Beatrice went with her niece up the stairs, and followed her to her chamber. Dominica had herself well in hand. Now for the battle! now for the setting up of wits against wits!
Doña Beatrice sank down into a chair by the window. “So that is it!” she said, amused. “What a daring lover you have, my dear! Yes, I was hoodwinked. I must be getting old.” She shook her head over it.
“Heaven, señora, are you too besotted then?” asked Dominica scornfully.
“Make no mistake, my dear,” said Doña Beatrice placidly, “I wish him all success. Diego was in a rare taking, was he not. Yes, many of them there had a fine scare tonight. Cry Brava, El Beauvallet! But I think I will have you away into the country.” She smiled. “A very charming romance, my dear. A pity it can come to naught.”
Dominica pressed her hands to her temples. “You make my head to reel!” she complained. “I love a pirate? God save you, señora, what next will you put on me?”
Doña Beatrice nodded. “Very well played, my dear. You have more head than I gave you credit for. But you need not be so careful now. I have no wish to see your hero perish. No, none whatsoever, I assure you. I have nothing but respect for a man of such daring. I wonder how he contrived to come by those papers of his? It would make a rare tale, I do not doubt. Alack, I am not like to hear it.” She sighed. “But for you, my child—you must be got away with
