“Not in the least. Drink. To a quick search and a happy.”
He rang the bell again and bade the servant call Bromm, the aged bell-ringer who lived by the church in a corner of the fort. In a few minutes a slow deliberate tap, tap resounded upon the paved courtyard without; next the old man entered, leaning upon his staff, which he grasped high up at the level of his head. The Earl advanced to meet him and took the faithful old man by the hand.
“How is it with you to-day, my Bromm; and how is the Juvrouw Betchen?”
“Please your Excellency, she is well, considering her age. But she was a fair wench in her day.”
Then he caught sight of me. It took a moment of deliberation for him to adjust himself to the unexpected surprise of a stranger in the room. He made me a low bow, slipping his hand down the body of his staff as he did so.
“Pardon me, sir, but I am turned eighty and I did not see you at first. No offense I hope. My sister always says—you don’t know the girl, do you? Of course not, but she was a wench in her day though she’s not so comely now. There is a sad look in her face for her man—him that was to be her man went to sea and she’s waiting for him yet. That’s forty years ago and the girl’s turned sixty-four last Niewe Jarre. Oh, our family has memory.”
“It is your memory I want to test, Bromm,” said the governor. “We have good reason to believe that within a twelvemonth Ruth Le Bourse was bound into service before the Stadt Huys. If such be the case you may have cried the proclamation for her sale. Have you any recollection of it? Now make an effort to remember. The name is Ruth Le Bourse.”
The old man planted his staff firmly on the floor and grasped it with both his hands while he thought. His memory seemed to give him no clue. He knit his brows, changed the position of his hands upon his staff, hemmed and hawed. But at last, just as he seemed about to give it up, his face brightened.
“Ay, Sir Richard, I have it. My cousin’s second wife’s sister’s girl’s name was Ruth. I knew we had a Ruth in the family. Ah, we have memory, we Bromms.”
I sighed in disappointment. The Earl suppressed a smile and led the crier’s vagrant thoughts back and forth among his confused recollections of the past year. But to no avail. He had not the slightest information to give us and we were no better off than before.