"Are you—a fisherman?" she asked abruptly.
"On occasions."
"And when you are not one—what are you then?"
"At times—a hunter."
"Ah!" Her eye lingered on something bright on the ledge beneath the window. "And that is the reason you have—pistols?"
"Exactly, my Lady!"
She continued to regard the weapons, of finest workmanship, inlaid with a metal that gleamed dully, like gold, in the light from the fire. His glance followed hers; she was about to speak, when quickly he interrupted.
"Has your Ladyship thought how she is going to get back to the Mount?"
My lady's questioning, along the line of personal inquiry, ceased; the Governor's daughter looked a little blank. "No—that is, haven't you a boat?"
"Not here."