His strange companion walked across the room, and for some moments stood with knit brows and downcast eyes, like one absorbed in painful thought. Then he began pacing up and down, while Ray watched him, inwardly wondering whether this half-smuggler, half-pirate captain was quite right in his mind.
He stopped, at last, in his quick, excited walk as rapidly as he had commenced, and facing round to where Ray sat, demanded:
“Why did my—this gipsy, Ketura, leave England?”
“I do not know—she never told me,” replied Ray.
“Old Earl De Courcy died shortly after I, her son, left England—perhaps she was instrumental in his death and was obliged to fly.”
“Of that I know nothing,” said Ray, impatiently. “What has all this to do with the revelations you are to make?”
“Not much, perhaps; but I wish my question answered. You say she resides in Old Barrens cottage?”
“Yes.”
“You live there too, with her, of course?”
“Yes.”