"What's this, eh?" said Harry.
"A letter from Lord Godolphin, Sir Harry," answered William. "His man has just brought it, and waits for an answer."
Harry tore open the letter, and then threw it across to Rockingham with a laugh. "The hounds are gathering, Rock," he said, "we shall have some fun out of this."
Rockingham read the note with a smile, and then tore it into fragments.
"What answer will you give?" he said.
Harry examined the back of his spaniel, pulling aside the dog's coat. "She has another patch of eczema here, confound it," he said, "that pomade I'm trying is no use at all. What d'you say? Oh, yes, an answer for Godolphin. Tell the man, will you, William, that her ladyship and I will be delighted to receive his lordship and the other gentlemen this evening for supper."
"Very good, sir," said William.
"And what invitation is this?" asked Dona, patting her curls in the mirror, "and who shall I be delighted to receive?"
"George Godolphin, Tommy Eustick, Philip Rashleigh, and half-a-dozen others," said Harry, flinging the dog off his knee, "and they're going to catch the froggie at last, aren't they, Duchess, and we shall be in at the kill."
Dona said nothing, and looking back into the room through the mirror she saw" that Rockingham was watching her.
"It will be an amusing party, do you not think?" he said.
"I rather doubt it," said Dona, "knowing Harry as a host. You will all be under the table by midnight."
She went out of the room and when she had closed the door she called to William softly, and he came to her at once, his eyes troubled.
"What is it?" she said, "you are anxious. Lord Godolphin and his friends, they can't do anything, it will be too late, La Mouette will have sailed."
"No, my lady," said William, "she will not have sailed. I have been down to the creek to warn my master. And I found the ship had grounded with this morning's tide, a rock piercing her planking under water. They were working on her when I went to the creek. And she will not be fit to sail for twenty-four hours."
His eyes wandered from her face, he moved away, and Dona, glancing over her shoulder saw that the door she had just closed had been opened again, and Rockingham was standing in the entrance, playing with the lace at his wrists.
The long day dragged to its close. The hands of the stable clock seemed reluctant to move, and the chimes every half-hour had a sombre tone. The afternoon was sultry and grey, with that heavy look about the sky that comes when thunder brews but does not break.
Harry had lain out upon the lawns with a handkerchief over his face, snoring loudly, with his two dogs snuffling by his side, and Rockingham sat with a book open in his hands, the pages of which he seldom turned, and when Dona glanced across at him from time to time she would be aware of his gaze upon her, curious and hungry.
He knew nothing, of course, but some uncanny intuition, almost feminine in quality, had observed the change in her, and he was suspicious, suspicious of the weeks she had spent here at Navron, of her familiarity with the manservant William, and of this more than ordinary aloofness towards Harry and himself, which he could swear came not from boredom but from something more vital, more dangerous. She was more silent than of old, she did not chatter, tease, and gibe at Harry as she was wont to do, but sat plucking the stems of grass with her hands, her eyes half-closed, like one who dreams in secret. All this he observed, and she knew that he was watching her, and the tension between them became more marked as the hours passed. It seemed to her that he had the brooding watchfulness of a cat, crouching beneath a tree, and she was the bird, silent amongst the long grass, waiting her chance to escape.
And Harry, oblivious to all atmospheres, slumbered and sighed.
Dona knew that the men would be working on the planking of the ship. She pictured them at low tide, with bare-feet, stripped to the waist, the sweat pouring off their backs, and La Mouette, with the wound in her hull exposed, heeling slightly, her planking grey with the mud.
He would be working with them, his forehead wrinkled, his lips compressed, with that look of concentration upon his face that she had grown to love and to respect, for the repairing of his ship would be a thing of life and of death, even as the landing at Fowey had been, and there would be no time now for idleness, for dreams.
Somehow, before tonight, she must go to the creek, and beg him to sail with the next tide, although La Mouette might still be taking in water, for the net was drawing in upon him, and to linger even one night longer must be fatal for him and for his crew.
The ship had been seen drawing towards the coast, so Rockingham had told her, and now nearly twenty-four hours had come and gone, and much might have been achieved in that time by his enemies, much might have been foreseen and planned. There would be watchers perhaps upon the headlands, and spies on the hills and in the woods, and tonight Rashleigh, Godolphin, and Eustick would themselves be seated at Navron, with God knows what purpose in their minds.
"You are thoughtful, Dona," said Rockingham, and she, looking across at him, saw that he had laid his book aside and was considering her, his head upon one side, his narrow eyes unsmiling. "It must be the fever that has altered you so," he continued, "for in town you were never silent for five minutes at a time."
"I am getting old," she said lightly, chewing a stem of grass, "in a few weeks I shall be thirty."
"A curious fever," he said, ignoring her words, "that leaves the patient with gypsy coloring and eyes so large. You did not see a physician, it seems?"
"I was my own physician."
"With the advice of the excellent William. What an unusual accent he has, by the way. Quite a foreign intonation."
"All Cornishmen speak likewise."
"But I understand he is not a Cornishman at all, at least so the groom informed me in the stable this morning."
"Perhaps he is from Devon then. I have never questioned William about his ancestry."
"And it seems that the house was entirely empty until you came? The unusual William took the responsibility of Navron upon his shoulders with no other servants to help him."
"I did not realise you engaged in stable gossip, Rockingham."
"Did you not, Dona? But it is one of my favourite pastimes. I always learn the latest scandals in town from the servants of my friends. The chatter of back-stairs is invariably true, and so extremely entertaining."
"And what have you learnt from the back-stairs at Navron?"
"Sufficient, dear Dona, to pique the curiosity."
"Indeed?"
"Her ladyship, I understand, has a passion for long walks in the heat of the day. She takes a joy, it seems, in wearing the oldest clothes, and returning, sometimes, splashed with mud and river water."
"Very true."
"Her ladyship's appetite is fitful, it appears. Sometimes she will sleep until nearly midday, and then demand her breakfast. Or she will taste nothing from noon until ten o'clock at night, and then, when her servants are abed, the faithful William brings her supper." "True again."
"And then, after having been in the rudest of health, she unaccountably takes to her bed, and shuts her door upon her household, even upon her children, because it seems she suffers from a fever, although no physician is sent for, and once again the unusual William is the only person admitted within her door."
"And what more, Rockingham?"
"Oh, nothing more, dear Dona. Only that you seem to have recovered very quickly from your fever, and show not the slightest pleasure in seeing your husband or his closest friend."
There was a sigh, and a yawn, and a stretching of limbs, and Harry threw his handkerchief from his face and scratched his wig.
"God knows that last remark you made was true enough," he said, "but then Dona always was an iceberg, Rock, old fellow; I have not been married to her for close on six years without discovering that! Damn these flies! Hi, Duchess, catch a fly. Stop 'em from plaguing your master, can't you?" And sitting up he waved his handkerchief in the air, and the dogs woke up and jumped and yapped, and then the children appeared round the corner of the terrace for their half-hour's romp before bedtime.
It was just after six when a shower sent them indoors, and Harry, still yawning and grumbling about the heat, sat down with Rockingham to play piquet. Three hours and a half yet until supper, and La Mouette still at anchor in the creek.
Dona stood by the window, tapping her fingers on the pane, and the summer shower fell heavy and fast.
The room was close, smelling already of the dogs, and the scent that Harry sprinkled on his clothes. Now and again he burst into a laugh, gibing at Rockingham for some mistake or other in their game. The hands of the clock crept faster than she wished, making up now for the slowness of the day, and she began to pace up and down the room, unable to control her growing premonition of defeat.
"Our Dona seems restless," observed Rockingham, glancing up at her from his cards, "perhaps the mysterious fever has not entirely left her?"
She gave him no answer, pausing once more by the long window.
"Can you beat the knave?" laughed Harry, throwing a card down upon the table, "or have you lost again? Leave my wife alone, Rock, and attend to the game. Look you there, there's another sovereign gone into my pocket. Come and sit down, Dona, you are worrying the dogs with your infernal pacing up and down."
"Look over Harry's shoulder, and see if he is cheating," said Rockingham, "time was when you could beat the pair of us at piquet."
Dona glanced down at them, Harry loud and cheerful, already a little flushed with the drink he had taken, oblivious to everything but the game he was playing, and Rockingham humouring him as he was wont to do, but watchful still, like a sleek cat, his narrow eyes turned upon Dona in greed and curiosity.
They were set there though, for another hour at least, she knew Harry well enough for that, and so yawning, and turning from the window, she began to walk towards the door.
"I shall lie down until supper," she said. "I have a headache. There must be thunder in the air."
"Go ahead, Rock old boy," said Harry, leaning back in his chair, "I'll wager you don't hold a heart in your hand. Will you increase your bid? There's a sportsman for you. Fill up my glass, Dona, as you're up. I'm as thirsty as a crow."
"Don't forget," said Rockingham smiling, "that we may have work to do before midnight."
"No, by the Lord, I have not forgotten. We're.going to catch the froggie, aren't we? What are you staring at me for, my beautiful?"
He looked up at his wife, his wig a little askew, his blue eyes filmy in his handsome florid face.
"I was thinking, Harry, that you will probably look like Godolphin in about ten years' time."
"Were you, damme? Well, and what of it? He's a stout fellow, is George Godolphin, one of my oldest friends. Is that the ace you're holding in front of my face? Now God damn you for a blasted cheat and a robber of innocent men."
Dona slipped from the room, and going upstairs to her bedroom she shut the door, and then pulled the heavy bell-rope that hung beside the fireplace. A few minutes later someone knocked, and a little maid-servant came into the room.
