At this instant the door was opened, and young Edward Catchpole entered. He had been to put his sheep safe into fold, and came whistling home, with little thought of seeing any strangers in his father’s cottage.
“Boy, do you know me?” was the inquiry made by Will Laud.
“Not yet,” said the younger; “but I can give a shrewd guess; and I can tell you something which will soon prove whether I guess right or not. As I came over the heath, I met two sailors, who appeared to me to belong to the preventive service. They were on horseback. They stopped and asked me if I had seen a cart, and whether it was going fast, and which road it took; whether it went across the heath, or along the road. I told them plainly it was before them, and that it had turned down the road towards the decoy-ponds. They then asked me if I had met two sailor-looking men walking. To this, of course, I said No. But I suspect they must have meant you.”
“How could that be?” said Laud. “We came not along the road.”
“No; but you might have seen some one who was going to Nacton Street, and they might have been inquired of.”
“That’s true, indeed. We had to ask where your father lived, and our curiosity concerning your family has led to this pursuit of us.”
“One of the men I think I have seen before, and, if I mistake not, it is the same Edward Barry that my sister and I went to see at Bawdsey boat-house.”
“Your sister went to see Edward Barry! What on earth for, my lad?”
“Nay, don’t be jealous, Laud. There was a report that you were drowned, and that your body was cast on shore. The bearer of that report was your rival, John Barry. Margaret would not believe that report, unless she should see your body. So I drove her there, and Edward Barry, who had the key of the boat-house, permitted her to see the bodies, which satisfied her that the report was unfounded.”