"At the shed?" I asked.
"Yes. He was lying in wait on the hillside, and ran down when he saw that I was alone. He stays in the shed for you, and you are to go to him alone."
"Amongst the dead sailor-men?" said I, with a laugh. But the words were little short of blasphemy to Dick Parmiter. "Well, I was there last night, and no harm came to me."
"You were there last night?" cried Dick. "Then you will not go?"
"But I will," said I. "I am curious to hear what Tortue has to say to me. You may take my word for it, Dick, there's no harm in Peter Tortue. I shall be back within the hour. Hush! not a word of this!" for I saw Helen Mayle coming from the house towards us. I told her that I was called away, and would return.
"Do you take Dick with you?" she asked, with too much indifference. She held a big hat of straw by the ribbons and swung it to and fro. She did that also with too much indifference.
"No," said I, "I leave him behind. Make of him what you can. He cannot tell what he does not know."
The sum of Dick's knowledge, I thought, amounted to no more than this--that I had last night visited the shed, in spite of the dead sailor-men. I forgot for the moment that he was in my bedroom when I rose that morning.
The door of the shed was fastened on the inside; I rapped with my knuckles, and Tortue's voice asked who was there. When I told him, he unbarred the door.
"There is no one behind you?" said he, peering over my shoulder.