"I must get off for the French coast in a day or two," said Dalton; "and I do not care to return until Blake with his train go up the river a bit; for it's foul sailing athwart the brave old boy: he's the only man living I'd strike flag to."
"And who has the care of the Firefly now you're ashore?" inquired the Cavalier.
"Why, Jeromio."
"I don't like him," said Robin bluntly: "foreigners are good slaves, but bad masters to us English: I'd rather trust the ship to little Spring."
"He is a mere boy, and too bad a sailor; besides, he is grown so superstitious, swears the devil came to him one night I placed him a watch on yon cliff. I must leave him ashore with you, Robin, and tell you what to do with the scapegrace, if I am not back by a particular day. I must also give you a letter to take to Sir Robert Cecil, postponing an appointment I had made with him."
"You had better give the letter to that gentleman," exclaimed Robin, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder to where the Cavalier sat; "he would do an errand to Cecil Place, especially if it were to the Lady Constance, right gladly."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Dalton, fixing his quick eye on the youth's countenance, that betrayed uneasiness but not displeasure. "Sits the wind in that quarter? But tell us, Robin, how was it?"
"There is nothing to tell, Captain," interrupted Walter, "except that Robin accompanied me to the Place, as it is called, to show me some alterations, and point out the excellent order in which the trees are kept; and in the grounds we encountered Mistress Cecil, and, as I am informed, the Lady Cromwell."
"I wish you would keep close here though," muttered Dalton; "you'll be meeting the villain Burrell before——"
"I would fain encounter Sir Willmott Burrell once again, and make him pay the traitor's forfeit."