CHAPTER IX
DESCRIBES THE ADVENTURES OF THE TRUE BELIEVER
One o’clock was striking as they rumbled into the ancient town of Dieppe and pulled up before the posting-inn. Here Sir John, having paid and feed his driver, was for ordering supper, but Sir Hector would have none of it.
“Come awa’, Johnnie,” he insisted, “an’ if ye’re hungry, I’ll find ye a red herring—mebbe a couple. Come awa’!”
“A herring? How say you, Rose child?” questioned Sir John, but my lady not troubling to answer, he tucked her hand within his arm and bade Sir Hector lead on.
“Ha—but the girl, John—ye’ll no’ be for draggin’ the puir lassie awa’ wi’ ye tae sea—at midnight?”
“No, indeed, Hector; if she will not walk I must carry her. Howbeit, she comes to share my herring!”
“O John!” sighed Sir Hector; “O Johnnie man, I’m fair amazed at ye!” And shaking gloomy head he turned and strode on before.
Once out of the dim-lit innyard, darkness engulfed them, but Sir Hector strode unhesitatingly; along narrow streets he led them, beneath the grim shadow of frowning archways and buildings, through a maze of winding alleys and ill-paved byways, turning sudden corners until, all at once, they were treading firm sand and there met them a wind fresh and sweet with the salt tang of the sea. Presently before them, vague in the gloom, was a small bay or inlet with a jetty, and beyond this the dim bulk of a ship, a very silent craft with never a glimmer of light from stem to stern.
“John, bide ye here!” said Sir Hector softly, and strode forward, to vanish in the dark; then rose a sweet, flute-like whistle rendering the first bars of “Blue Bonnets over the Border,” which was answered, after a little, by a hoarse voice in English: