“When did you last meet Prince John?” she inquired, planting her feet well apart, and holding her hands behind her back. She wore her blue serge that morning, and had a beaver hat set well clear of her forehead. As the weather was cold, though fine, she had tight-fitting brown gaiters over her strong boots, and she looked fit for any game that might present itself.
Jim shuffled from one foot to the other, and scratched the tip of his ear.
“I don’t exactly remember, miss,” he said.
“Take time, James. There is no hurry. Just think.”
“Well, it might ha’ bin at the Marquis o’ Granby; yesterday after tea.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said it was a powerful shame a furriner should come to a British colony an’ steal a thing which a lot o’ pore blacks thought more of than anybody could imagine.”
“And then he paid for another round of beer?”
“Well, miss, if you put it that way—”
“And he asked you to search for his black bag, and particularly for a little ivory doll which was inside it?”