As for that clod-like servitor, he was just as imperturbable as ever. Not by the relaxing of a muscle did he betray that he had encountered the woman before. The landlord admitted to himself that such a studied stolidity was remarkable. The fellow made respectfully to withdraw on the woman’s appearance.
“Not so,” said his master, roughly. “I would have you stay here, sirrah. You shall be condemned out of the mouth of your accomplice.”
He then turned, bully as he was, even more roughly on the woman.
“Madam,” he said, “I have sent for you to demand an explanation of your last night’s conduct. In the middle of the night you crept out of my house, climbed upon a rock in front of the open sea, and while there you encountered this serving-man of mine, Will Jackson. Madam, I demand to know what passed between you; also when and where you met my serving-man before.”
“How can madam say that,” the serving-man promptly answered for her, before she had a chance to reply on her own part, “when I have told you over and over again, good master, that I was never out last night at all; and, if you must know, the only time she hath seen me before this morning was when you sent me up the ladder to spy upon her. Then it was she happened to raise her eyes to the window, and accidentally caught mine looking at her.”
“Silence, you insolent scoundrel!” roared the landlord. “How dare you presume to put words in the mouth of this lady! You impertinent dog! Come, madam, I await your explanation of this odd circumstance.”
The woman stood silent, with her head bent upon the ground. The landlord was obliged to admit that the exceeding promptness of his clod of a servant had done a great deal towards outwitting him. She had had her cue from this impudent rogue. It was too plain that she was striving to summon up the courage to utilise it.
“Come, madam,” cried the landlord; “I would not have you attempt to dissemble. You are not of the pattern of a dissembler, as witness your somewhat melancholy performance in that role in the small hours of this morning. Be frank, madam. I prithee do not exhaust my patience. Your respite of twenty-four hours may suffer a curtailment else.”
This threat was not without its effect. The landlord grimly noted how the fear sprang to her eyes. He noted, too, that as she raised them they rested a moment wildly on Will Jackson’s face. His countenance, however, the landlord saw with a new amazement, was absolutely empty and passive. The fellow was either a clown of no capacity at all, or a man of an infinite wit, resource, and intelligence.
“Madam, I demand an answer,” said the landlord.