She was a quiet, homely little person, usually clothed in a grey stuff gown, and wearing the white, close-fitting cap of the sect she belonged to. Her serious face was the hue of old ivory, and she had mild blue eyes, the pensive expression of which, added to the calm look, soothed all to whom she spoke. When anyone was in trouble, he or she--it was usually a she--came for advice and comfort to Miss Drake, and both were freely given. She kept only one servant, a stout wench called Kezia, who adored her mistress, and who made it the study of her life that Miss Drake should be comfortable. The old lady had a little money of her own, and with this and the twenty pounds a month which came from America she lived in what she regarded as a luxurious way. But Miss Drake's luxury would have been the penury of other and more modern people.
The room in which she sat was as quaint as herself, and almost as small. The furniture was old, and polished brightly by Kezia. The curtains and hangings were faded, but the room was brightened by numerous antimacassars worked by its owner. There was a china cupboard containing hoarded cups and saucers, strange seashells on the mantelpiece, and portraits in oil of Miss Drake's ancestors on the walls. She did not claim descent from the famous Sir Francis, but admitted that she derived her blood from a distant branch of the family. At all events, the love of travel and seafaring was in the Drake blood, for two of Miss Drake's brothers had been merchant captains, and her only sister had travelled in quest of a situation to America. They were all dead now, and Miss Drake remained awaiting her summons in the small room in the small house at the top of Kingsbridge High Street. Miss Drake missed her nephew. She was much attached to him, and had done her best to bring him up since the time when he was entrusted to her charge at the tender age of two years. But Frank's ambitions had led him to London, and Miss Drake, knowing that it behoved him to fight the battle of life, had let him depart with a sigh. Sometimes he came to see her, and these occasions were always festivals. When the news of Frank's trouble came, Miss Drake sturdily refused to believe it, and prayed earnestly that Frank's innocence would be made evident in God's good time. She firmly believed that it would.
All the same, in spite of her undoubted faith, Miss Drake was much agitated over the matter. As the weeks went by and nothing was heard of Frank, she fretted over his disappearance until the good Kezia grew quite alarmed. But after a time, so long as no mention was made of the matter, she became calmer, and waited patiently for the result of her prayers. When Eustace called she was at once alarmed, divining that the arrival of this stranger had something to do with the trouble of her poor lost boy. She saw her visitor at once, and gave him tea out of wonderful egg-shell china. Eustace liked the old lady at sight, and strove to set her at her ease. In this he succeeded, for by the time they arrived at the most serious portion of their conversation Miss Drake was quite alert. She had been greatly cheered by Jarman's insistence on Frank's innocence.
"Though I never believed he was guilty," she said, in her quiet voice. "Friend Jarman, thou hast been a brother to him. Thy reward will come."
"I don't ask for any reward, Miss Drake. I am not the man to see a fellow like Frank--such a good fellow, too--go under without doing my best to help him. Well, I have told you that he is with me in disguise, and you know all the circumstances of the crime."
"So much, Friend Jarman, as the police could tell me."
"The police? Oh! has Inspector Herny been here?"
Miss Drake nodded, and looked at her knitting with her head on one side like a bright-eyed robin. "This Mr. Herny took possession of Frank's goods in the name of law and order. He found a letter addressed to me, and learnt that I was aunt to my poor boy. He came to learn if Frank had fled to me."
"I thought he would," said Jarman, drawing a long breath.
"I was not able to tell him anything," resumed Miss Drake, "but I insisted that Frank was innocent. Beyond a few papers, all Frank's goods have been sent here. I have paid up the rent of his rooms, and they are now let to another tenant. So when Frank comes to me, Friend Jarman, he will find that his worldly affairs are as settled as I, in my poor weak way, could arrange them."