"And whether it is or not," she answered, "pray tell me what matters it to you?"
"It matters this to me," he said quickly: "that if it is, then I'll let you off, and will go on my way, although I don't quite like the looks of the doings I've seen on this rock, and out there on the water."
"By the Holy Poker!" Dorothy exclaimed, bent upon keeping up the part she had assumed. "But you talk as if you were the Lord High Cockalorum himself! Who are you, to say what you do and do not like here, on my father's premises?"
"Never mind who I am. Perhaps I can make more trouble for your father and his household than you are able to understand. But answer what I have asked, and you'll not be sorry."
Dorothy could not fail to note the earnestness with which he spoke, nor the intent look she felt rather than saw in the dim light. But she met all this with a mocking air and tone as she said, "Since you make it so worth my while to be kind to my neighbors, how know you but I might see fit to tell you an untruth, and say my name was Devereux, when it may be Robinson, or anything else?"
"If this is your father's estate, then your name must be Devereux," Southorn asserted; "for the place is owned by one Joseph Devereux, as I have been told. So there's an end to your telling me anything misleading. And now answer me this,—know you the one who is called Mistress Dorothy Devereux?"
Dot waited a moment before answering. A new scheme had sprung into her quick-witted brain,—one that promised an effective means of getting rid of his embarrassing presence, this being likely to interfere seriously with the landing of the arms and powder, were that still in contemplation.
She was wondering, too, what had become of Mary Broughton, and what she was doing all this time.
"Answer me," the young Britisher repeated sharply, "do you know her?" And he gave a shake to the arm he still held.
"You seem over-fond of shaking folk, sir," she remonstrated. "I wish you'd let go my arm." And she pulled it impatiently.