“David, where dwells that hermit?”
“By the holy well, away on the Stronde, west of Lud Gate. Any body you meet on that road will tell you where to find him. His hut stands a bit back from the high way, on the north.”
“Very good. I’ll find him.”
The next day, until nearly the hour of curfew, nothing was seen of Countess. She took Olaf with her as guard, and they returned at the last moment, just in time to enter the City before the gates were closed. David and Christian had finished their work, shut up the shop, and put the children to bed, when Olaf made his stately entrance, with his mistress behind him.
“Thy old hermit,” she said, addressing David, “is the first decent Christian I have found—the first that goes by his Master’s words, and does not worry me with nonsense.”
She drew off her hood, and sat down in the chimney-corner.
“You found him then?” answered David. “Had you much trouble?”
“I found him. Never mind the trouble.”
“Has he settled the puzzle for you, then?”
“I think I settled it for him.”