The haberdasher's shop was at the extreme end of the street down which,
Marion had noted, the sailor had gone. Making a detour, she entered the
street from another direction, timing her arrival at the door so that
the clumsy figure rolled by just after she had bidden Simone enter the
shop. Zacchary stood a few paces away, chewing a straw, his eyes in the
opposite direction. Marion followed the sailor a couple of yards.
'Jack!'
The man stopped and turned, a smile lighting up his features as he
recognised the speaker. Marion looked affectionately up into the face
of the sailor-boy of her childhood's days. The rough beard he had
assumed for a disguise changed him greatly. But the merry eyes were the
same. Marion went straight to the point.
'This is a great danger for you, Jack.'
Poole nodded. 'I couldn't stay down along, or sail, or anything, with
Master Roger in gaol, Mistress Marion.'
'I guessed it. We must not be seen talking. Listen. He shall escape.
I need help at the other end. You can do nothing here. Bob Tregarthen
is lying in the Catt Water. Take a boat down there, and persuade him to
sail down to Garth and wait off the headland. Tell him to be prepared
for a voyage; ready to sail at a minute's notice, night or day. You
understand?'
Jack hesitated. 'I'd a sight rather bide along o' you, Mistress. How
be you going to manage the escape? 'Tis over dangerous for a maid.'
'Never mind me. I have my plans. But don't you see, Jack, you are an
added danger? They are sure to trace you here. When did you escape
from Bodmin?'
'Three days ago. And when I heard from Charity what was doing, I
couldn't sail, I couldn't. Let me bide and help 'ee, Mistress!'
Marion reconsidered the position. She shook her head. 'No,' she
repeated, 'you make an added danger. And I need your help at the other
end. Go now, Jack. I'm so afraid you may be recognised. Give my dear
love to Charity. And Jack--have a care. Yonder renegade may be on the
watch.'
'I know all about he,' said Jack. 'I only ask just to set eyes on un.'
'Then good-bye, Jack. And--and God bless you.'
'God bless ee kindly, Mistress Marion,' came Poole's husky tones, as he
turned away.
Marion glanced hastily along the street. Only a few men lounged at the
other end, outside a small inn, and these, she saw to her infinite
relief, had been joined by Zacchary, and were looking at something in
the distance, something Zacchary was pointing out. 'Dear old Zacchary!'
commented Marion. 'He has his wits about him.'
She entered the shop. Simone was arguing on the subject of the colour
of ribbons with the shopkeeper and his assistant, who were fully
absorbed in the conversation, to the exclusion of any affairs in the
street.
'Here comes my mistress,' said Simone. 'I was saying, Mademoiselle,
that no lady could wear a ribbon of such a vile texture as that, and the
colour of this is too garish. What do you think, Mademoiselle?'
Gravely Marion went into the subject of the silk, and finally bought a
couple of yards and went out. She turned straight up the hill towards
her aunt's house.
*CHAPTER XIX*
*THE GAOL YARD*
Across the candles of the supper table Mistress Keziah looked curiously
at her niece, and the footman behind her chair could scarcely attend to
his duties for watching the face of the young mistress. Her eyes were
bright, spots of colour showed in her cheeks; she was wearing a
beautiful London gown; Mistress Keziah knew that for some reason Marion
was calling up her defences. 'For a complete actress,' mused the old
woman, 'give me a girl who is at her wits' end with anxiety and grief.'
Marion was talking of her childhood at Garth, of the various activities
that had filled her days. From that she went Lightly back to
Kensington, and thence again to Cornwall. She appeared to be relishing
greatly the prospect of returning to Garth.
'Only my promise to stay with you a sennight would keep me, Aunt Keziah.
I am suddenly become mightily homesick. I want the stables and the
horses--my horses--the boats and the beach. I declare I should like to
look at my dolls again, and my skipping rope. Oh yes! and my bow and
arrows. Ah, those days! 'Tis a pity you never learned to shoot, Aunt
Keziah. I remember your telling me you had never handled a bow. If
only you had one, 'twould have pleased me mightily to set up a target in
the garden. Did I tell you,' she went on, 'that Colonel Sampson and
Captain Beckenham took me to an archery one day, and I beat my lord the
captain by a good two yards?'
Marion laughed merrily. The footman, his wits dissolved in admiration,
stored up the gossip for the kitchen, and wondered where a bow was to be
had. He would like greatly to watch the young lady shoot.
'Who is Captain Beckenham?' asked Mistress Keziah.
'One of Aunt Constance's friends, in Her Majesty's suite. He was
mightily kind. He risked the Queen's displeasure in absenting himself
to ride with us over the heath past Hounslow, giving me to understand it
was for the sake of my _beaux yeux_. But,' added Marion, a smile coming
and going, 'in the coach I discovered that my own were outshone by
Simone's. He amused me somewhat, that young man. He changes from one
weighty affection to another as lightly as he changes a coat.'
Mistress Keziah, following her niece's lead, talked in a similar vein
until the cloth was removed, and William departed. As he closed the
door Marion leaned back in her chair, and drew a long breath. Mistress
Keziah waited. Marion had nothing more to say. In silence the two
finished their meal, the girl toying with the sweets on her plate. She
followed her aunt into her little sitting-room upstairs, where Simone,
who always ate her meals in her own chamber, had been bidden to wait.
From a stool by the window in the dusk-filled room, Simone looked
anxiously at her mistress. The evening had been heavy for her. She had
once more been counting the hours; the lingering daylight showed her
face wan and grave.
'Well,' said the old lady drily, as she sat down, ''twas mightily
pretty, all that talk. What did it mean?'
'It means, Aunt Keziah, that by fair means or foul, I must have a bow
and arrows.'
Mistress Keziah stared at her niece.
'I am not demented,' said Marion, 'though I see you think so. I sought
the town this afternoon. There seems not to be such a thing in Exeter.
But there must be, if one knew where to look.'
'So that is why you discoursed on the subject so pleasantly that William
spilt the gravy all over the trencher.'
'Just that, Aunt Keziah. If William knows any one who possesses a bow,
'twill be forthcoming for the young mistress's amusement.'
Simone and Mistress Keziah stared afresh at the speaker. Marion had
given no inkling of her motives for wandering about the town during the
afternoon, nor had she explained her reason for making the purchases she
had.
'But why?'
'To kill the sentry?' queried Simone.
'To shoot sparrows, _ma petite_. See,' Marion looked round, 'just
glance over the gallery, Simone, lest some one should be within
earshot.'
'No one is about,' said Mistress Keziah. 'William is holding forth in
the kitchen on the subject of Mistress Marion. 'Tis long since he has
had such entertainment.'
Simone returned to her seat. Her face was grave.
'See,' said Marion again, speaking slowly, looking from one to the other
of her hearers. 'To the end of an arrow may be attached a length of
fine silk; to that a length of stout thread; to that'--Simone gave a
little cry--'a length of fine cord; then a rope; to the end of the rope
may be tied a package containing a note and a file. Simone, if you go
into hysterics, I shall put you to bed!'
Simone was struggling between tears and laughter, her Gallic temperament
suddenly roused in a helpless emotion. She clasped her hands over her
face. 'Oh, Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!' she sobbed. 'I see it
plainly. He will be saved! Oh!'
Aunt and niece were looking at each other. 'Well?' said Marion.
'_Mes compliments_,' returned Mistress Keziah quietly. A gleam of pride
flashed in her keen old eyes. She looked from her niece to Simone, who
was rocking to and fro on her stool. 'Any one would know you were not
English, Simone!' she said, with a touch of asperity.
'_Eh bien_!' sobbed the girl, 'one may love one's mistress, even if one
is not English.' Simone was completely undone by the swift reaction of
four days and nights of anxiety and hopelessness. Marion laid a
soothing hand on her shoulder. By degrees she calmed down.
'But where can one be got, Aunt Keziah?'
'So. Before shooting the arrow of fate it is first necessary to have a
bow.'
'And any day after to-morrow the courier may return.'
Silence fell on the little room.
'You did not say how you would do it, Mademoiselle,' presently said
Simone.
'From the little window across into the cell, through the bars.'
'But, Mademoiselle, can you do such a thing? It seems incredible, at
that distance, through those narrow bars!'
'I know not whether any one can do such a thing or not. But I am going
to do it.'
'That is the right spirit,' commented Mistress Keziah, her eyes gleaming
again. 'There speaks victory. But taking your skill for granted, my
dear, how avoid the risk of shooting the lad himself?'
'I have thought of that. We had a trick, Roger and I,' Marion made a
swift gesture with one hand, 'like that, when we were shooting together
in the country, a gesture that told the one who was marking where arrows
fell to stand to the left or right out of danger as the other changed
his aim. I will make the sign when they are out in the yard. There
will be one second in the hour when the sentry is not looking, as there
was to-day. Also, to make sure, I am going now to note what his cell
looks like by candlelight. I feel sure that if Roger has sixpence in
his pocket he will have a candle to-night. He will want us to see him.
You may be quite sure Roger is thinking hard, as well as ourselves, and
doing all he can. He will know I am not here in Exeter just now simply
to take the air.'
Mistress Keziah pondered a while.
'Suppose your silk catches in the trees?'
'It cannot. The window is too high.'
'Will it not interfere with the flight of the arrow, Mademoiselle?'