"He shall have them," said Bufton. "Oh! he shall. Alas! poor Anne. I fear she will be driven to the despair you spoke of. Later, I shall assume mourning for her--when I have heard the news. 'Twill be but decorous perhaps."
"I know she will be so driven. Now, listen to what you have to do. It would be best that you keep here until to-morrow afternoon. Then, when dusk is coming, we will proceed towards the creek (pray Heaven the Mignonne returns not first!), having taken care to have the letter delivered, and there we will await their coming. Once they arrive at the spot, 'tis done in a moment."
"You are a marvellous man!" cried Bufton. "Oh! a marvellous one. We shall succeed. We shall. I know we shall."
"We cannot fail. Now let us to bed. Tomorrow we have much to do."
Bufton would not, however, go to bed at once, declaring that on this night they must drink success to their great scheme; to his revenge and freedom, as he termed it. But at last Granger induced him to do so, and led him to a room at the back of the house, from the windows of which a fair view down the river could be obtained. He had also another spare room that looked up the river, and from which all the shipping lying in it was to be observed; but to put Bufton there would not have done. For amongst other masts and yards might have been seen towering the tall top-gallant yards of the Mignonne, with, flying above them, her streaming pennon. That would not, indeed, have done, since, thus, the deluded man might have understood that Sir Geoffrey Barry was back, and that, consequently, the letter he supposed was about to be sent to Ariadne on the morrow would be useless.
"Sleep well," said Granger, "sleep well; and wake up brisk and hearty in good time. And when you gaze out on to the Marshes in the morning, pray Heaven that you do not see the Mignonne coming up stream." With which benediction, and turning his face away from the candle's gleam so that Bufton should not observe it, he quitted the room.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
A DISCOVERY.
The March wind died down during the night, so that, when the dawn came, the whole neighbourhood was enveloped in one of the many exhalations which are constantly arising from the Marshes hard by. And, all through the day, there was still an absence of breeze, so that the fog and mist remained hanging like a pall over the locality, and shrouding everything from observation which was more than a few yards distant.
"You see," said Granger, as now he and Bufton made their way on foot early, and not waiting for the afternoon--on foot, because thus attention would be less likely to be attracted--"how fortune favours us. A better day it would be impossible to desire. Until the victims are near at hand, close to where the boat will be alongside the shore, all will be invisible. Yet not that it matters much, for down where that will lie none ever come after dark, and not many by daylight."