“I knew yours,” said Parslewe, with a grin. “That’s just why I wouldn’t see you when you came to my house.”
Sir Charles stared—this was beyond him. He looked from one to the other of us; finally at Parslewe. There was that in his expression which made me think that he was wondering if Parslewe might not be a little mad.
“But why, my good sir?” he asked soothingly. “Why? Am I so——”
Parslewe laughed and pointed to the panelling over the big fireplace. There, carved in oak, was the Palkeney coat-of-arms, and beneath it the motto that had excited my wonder when I first saw it on the copper box.
“Do you see that?” he asked. “Aye?—well, you see, I have the Palkeney blood in my veins! And what I please to do, that I do!—without caring for or consulting anybody. Family characteristic, Sperrigoe! But I guess you’ve seen it before, eh?”
Sir Charles was still staring at him. He looked like a man who has unexpectedly got hold of some curious animal and is uncertain what it is about to do next. But after rubbing his chin a little, he spoke.
“Do I understand you to say that you have the Palkeney blood in your veins?” he inquired. “Then——”
Parslewe suddenly pointed to the table which stood in the centre of the room, signing us all to be seated at it; I noticed that he himself took the chair at its head as with an unchallengeable authority.
“Better sit down and do our business,” he said. Then, as we settled round the table, Madrasia and I on his right and left hand, and Sir Charles opposite to him, he put a hand in his coat pocket, drew out the copper box, and with one of his queer smiles, set it before him. “Do you know what that is, Sperrigoe?” he asked.
Sir Charles made a wry face.