“And yet that is the most simple thing in the world, my dear sister. Have you not observed that the captain of your little vessel, on entering the roadstead, sent forward, in order to obtain permission to enter the port, a little boat bearing his logbook and the register of his voyagers? I am commandant of the port. They brought me that book. I recognized your name in it. My heart told me what your mouth has just confirmed—that is to say, with what view you have exposed yourself to the dangers of a sea so perilous, or at least so troublesome at this moment—and I sent my cutter to meet you. You know the rest.”
Milady knew that Lord de Winter lied, and she was the more alarmed.
“My brother,” continued she, “was not that my Lord Buckingham whom I saw on the jetty this evening as we arrived?”
“Himself. Ah, I can understand how the sight of him struck you,” replied Lord de Winter. “You came from a country where he must be very much talked of, and I know that his armaments against France greatly engage the attention of your friend the cardinal.”
“My friend the cardinal!” cried Milady, seeing that on this point as on the other Lord de Winter seemed well instructed.
“Is he not your friend?” replied the baron, negligently. “Ah, pardon! I thought so; but we will return to my Lord Duke presently. Let us not depart from the sentimental turn our conversation had taken. You came, you say, to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I reply that you shall be served to the height of your wishes, and that we shall see each other every day.”
“Am I, then, to remain here eternally?” demanded Milady, with a certain terror.
“Do you find yourself badly lodged, sister? Demand anything you want, and I will hasten to have you furnished with it.”