Hinton glanced sharply at Lord Colavon's face reflected in the mirror. It was covered with a foam of white soap and no face in that state looks intelligent. Hinton decided that nothing more than an evasive answer was necessary.
"I am certainly interested, my lord."
Jimmy laid down his shaving brush and took up his razor. After giving his chin a scrape he turned to Hinton again.
"As an historical archæologist," he said, "you are, of course, interested in any effort to re-create the past."
Hinton was a little puzzled. His safest plan seemed to be to say nothing.
"And the artistic side of the thing appeals to you strongly," said Jimmy.
Hinton, still puzzled, and becoming uneasy, bowed gravely.
"Remarkable man you are, Hinton," said Jimmy. "And your friend Linker, the shopkeeper, is a remarkable man, too. Suppose now you tell me all about this pageant, just who else is in it besides you and Uncle Evie and what's going on and how far you've got."
Hinton was perfectly willing to tell a good deal, if not actually all there was to tell, about the pageant.
He gave a list of the patrons so far. He described Mrs. Eames at some length. He described the vicar, who continued to live a secluded life, chiefly in the church, taking no part in the village activities. He described the rehearsals, held daily at high tide. Bales of goods and small casks, lent by Hinton himself, were landed at every high tide out of one of Bunce's boats. Songs, which Mrs. Eames called chanties, were sung as the work went on. Sometimes the cargo, when landed, was stored in the cave. Sometimes it was carried across the beach, with the accompaniment of other chanties, and loaded on the back of the only horse which Mrs. Eames had been able to borrow. Unfortunately, the first enthusiasm of the village was dying away. The daily rehearsals were felt to be tiresome. It required all the influence of Hinton himself, Bunce and some of the older men, to keep the people at work.