"Yes--it is his seal."

"Now read it."

Judith knelt at the hearth.

"Blow, blow the fire up, my beauty," called Scantlebray to Jamie.

"Don't you see that your sister wants light, and is running the risk of blinding her sweet pretty eyes." Jamie puffed vigorously and sent out sparks snapping and blinking, and brought the wood to a white glow, by which Judith was able to decipher the letter.

It was a formal order from Cruel Coppinger to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray to remove James Trevisa that evening, after dark, from Oth.e.l.lo Cottage to his idiot asylum, to remain there in custody till further notice.

Judith remained kneeling, with her eyes on the letter, after she had read it. She was considering. It was clear to her that directly after leaving her Captain Coppinger had formed his own resolve, either impatient of waiting the six hours he had allowed her, or because he thought the alternative of the Asylum the only one that could be accepted by her, and it was one that would content himself, as the only one that avoided exposure of a scandal. But there were other asylums than that of Scantlebray, and others were presumably better managed, and those in charge less severe in their dealings. She had considered this, as she looked into the fire. But a new idea had also at the same time lightened in her mind, and she had a third alternative to propose.

She had been waiting for the moment when to go to the Glaze and see Coppinger, and just at the moment when she was about to send Jamie to bed and leave the house Scantlebray came in.

"Now then," said the agent, "what do you think of me--that I am a real friend?"

"I thank you for having told me this," answered Judith, "and now I will go to Pentyre. I beg that you will not allow my brother to be conveyed away during my absence. Wait till I return. Perhaps Captain Coppinger may not insist on the removal at once. If you are a real friend, as you profess, you will do this for me."

"I will do it willingly. That I am a real friend I have shown you by my conduct. I have come beforehand to break news to you which might have been too great and too overwhelming had it come on you suddenly.

My brother and a man or two will be here in an hour. Go by all means to Captain Cruel, but," Scantlebray winked an eye, "I don't myself think you will prevail with him."

"I will thank you to remain here for half an hour with Jamie," said Judith, coldly. "And to stay all proceedings till my return. If I succeed--well. If not, then only a few minutes have been lost. I have that to say to Captain Coppinger which may, and I trust will, lead him to withdraw that order."

"Rely on me. I am a rock on which you may build," said Scantlebray. "I will do my best to entertain your brother, though, alas! I have not the abilities of Obadiah, who is a genius, and can keep folks hour by hour going from one roar of laughter into another."

No sooner was Judith gone than Scantlebray put his tongue into one side of his cheek, clicked, pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, and seated himself opposite Jamie on the stool beside the fire which had been vacated by Judith. Jamie had understood nothing of the conversation that had taken place, his name had not been mentioned, and consequently his attention had not been drawn to it away from some chestnuts he had found, or which had been given to him, that he was baking in the ashes on the hearth.

"Fond of hunting, eh?" asked Scantlebray, stretching his legs and rubbing his hands. "You are like me--like to be in at the death. What do you suppose I have in my pocket? Why, a fox with a fiery tail.

Shall we run him to earth? Shall we make an end of him? Tally-ho!

Tally-ho! here he is. Oh, sly Reynard, I have you by the ears." And forth from the tail-pocket of his coat Scantlebray produced a bottle of brandy. "What say you, corporal, shall we drink his blood? Bring me a couple of gla.s.ses and I'll pour out his gore."

"I haven't any," said Jamie. "Ju and I have two mugs, that is all."

"And they will do famously. Here goes--off with the mask!" and with a blow he knocked away the head and cork of the bottle. "No more running away for you, my beauty, except down our throats. Mugs! That is famous. Come, shall we play at army and navy, and the forfeit be a drink of Reynard's blood?"

Jamie p.r.i.c.ked up his ears; he was always ready for a game of play.

"Look here," said Scantlebray. "You are in the military, I am in the nautical line. Each must address the other by some t.i.tle in accordance with the profession each professes, and the forfeit of failure is a pull at the bottle. What do you say! I will begin. Set the bottle there between us. Now then, Sergeant, they tell me your aunt has come in for a fortune. How much? What is the figure, eh?"

"I don't know," responded Jamie, and was at once caught up with "Forfeit! forfeit!"

"Oh, by Jimminy, there am I, too, in the same box. Take your swig, Commander, and pa.s.s to me."

"But what am I to call you?" asked the puzzle-headed boy.

"Mate, or captain, or boatswain, or admiral."

"I can't remember all that."

"Mate will do. Always say mate, whatever you ask or answer. Do you understand, General!"

"Yes."

"Forfeit! forfeit! You should have said 'Yes, mate.'" Mr. Scantlebray put his hands to his sides and laughed. "Oh, Jimminy! there am I again. The instructor as bad as the pupil. I'm a bad fellow as instructor, that I am, Field-Marshal. So--your Aunt Dionysia has come in for some thousands of pounds--how many do you think! Have you heard?"

"I think I've heard----"

"Mate! Mate!"

"I think I've heard, Mate."

"Now, how many do you remember to have heard named? Was it five thousand? That is what I heard named--eh, Captain?"

"Oh, more than that," said Jamie, in his small mind catching at a chance of talking-big, "a great lot more than that."

"What, ten thousand?"

"I dare say; yes, I think so."

"Forfeit! forfeit! pull again, Centurion."

"Yes, Mate, I'm sure."

"Ten thousand--why, at five per cent. that's a nice little sum for you and Ju to look forward to when the old hull springs a leak and goes to the bottom."

"Yes," answered Jamie, vaguely. He could not look beyond the day, moreover he did not understand the figurative speech of his comrade.

"Forfeit again, General! But I'll forgive you this time, or you'll get so drunk you'll not be able to answer me a question. Bless my legs and arms! on that pretty little sum one could afford one's self a new tie every Sunday. You will prove a beau and buck indeed some day, Captain of Thousands! And then you won't live in this little hole. By the way, I hear old Dunes Trevisa, I beg pardon, Field-Marshal Sir James, I mean your much respected aunt, Miss Trevisa, has got a charming box down by S. Austell. You'll ask me down for the shooting, won't you, Commander-in-Chief?"

"Yes, I will," answered Jamie.

"And you'll give me the best bedroom, and will have choice dinners, and the best old tawny port, eh?"

"Yes, to be sure," said the boy, flattered.

"Mate! mate! forfeit! and I suppose you'll keep a hunter?"

"I shall have two--three," said Jamie.

"And if I were you, I'd keep a pack of fox-hounds."

"I will."

"That's for the winter, and other hounds for the summer."

"I am sure I will, and wear a red coat."

"Famous! but--there I spare you this time--you forfeited again."