“Do you still intend going to Scotland?” I asked. “What have you found out?”
“That they went north—so must we. Here, I have brought some food—the dusk is gathering—eat and let us be off. Old Turner tracked your pony across the park in this direction; he may be for searching the old house, and then all chance of coming again will be over. I would not have this eagle’s nest discovered for the world.”
“But Lady Catherine will discover it,” I said. “She will not leave the noble building to fall away thus.”
“I have taken care of that. The door leading to the rooms below was walled up when I first came to England. You have not noticed, but the staircase winds down within the walls, and has a passage outward through the wine vaults. We entered through a great oak panel which opens from the picture gallery; close that and no passage can be found to the turret. I have formed a snug bower here, off and on, ever since you were left in the tent, Zana.”
“And were you here then?” I asked, remembering the suffering of that period.
“No, I fled. Old Papita’s death and her work at the Hurst drove me off. I went into Spain for a little time—and then farther still.”
“And since then have you been always here?”
He laughed in derision at my ignorance.
“What, a Caloe count of our tribe, and always in one place? What a child it is! No, no, I only found a roost up in this tower now and then, long enough to see how it fared with you and the enemy. I have been a great traveller, Zana, sometimes on your father’s track for months and months—sometimes hovering over your pretty nest—sometimes with our people in Granada.”
“Why did you follow Lord Clare?” I inquired, filled with wonder and respect for energies so indomitable.