Then she turned and slowly left the room, followed by the Chevalier, and by the noiseless Dormy Jamais, who had crept in behind them. As Dormy Jamais closed the door, he looked back to where the coffin lay, and in the compassion of fools he repeated Guida's words:
"Poor Philip!" he said.
Now, during Philip's burial, Dormy Jamais sat upon the roof of the Cohue Royale, as he had done on the day of the Battle of Jersey, looking down on the funeral cortege and the crowd. He watched it all until the ruffle of drums at the grave told that the body was being lowered—four ruffles for an admiral.
As the people began to disperse and the church bell ceased tolling, Dormy turned to another bell at his elbow, and set it ringing to call the Royal Court together. Sharp, mirthless, and acrid it rang:
Chicane—chicane! Chicane—chicane! Chicane—chicane!
IN JERSEY-A YEAR LATER
CHAPTER XLVI
"What is that for?" asked the child, pointing. Detricand put the watch to the child's ear. "It's to keep time. Listen. Do you hear it-tic- tic, tic-tic?"'
The child nodded his head gleefully, and his big eyes blinked with understanding. "Doesn't it ever stop?" he asked.
"This watch never stops," replied Detricand. "But there are plenty of watches that do."