Nevertheless, he continued for many days thereafter to keep a close watch upon the doings of both Jasper and Philip, in the expectation that by some carelessly-spoken word or unconsidered act either of them might betray himself, and reveal not only a knowledge of the missing letter but also perhaps his sympathy with the King of Spain. Timothy felt that in thus spying upon his master's relatives he was to some extent disloyal and dishonourable; but Hartop had awakened in his mind strange misgivings regarding them, and his only aim was to arrive at the truth. He had wished for help from Jacob Hartop in the matter, but the old man had shown a dread of remaining in a neighbourhood in which there was a danger of his encountering Jasper Oglander, and on the third day after his arrival in England he had set off on foot to the village of Polperro, where, as he had heard, a niece of his was at that time living, so that Timothy could not now consult with him.
On a certain afternoon some time thereafter Timothy and Gilbert, who had now recovered from his hurts, were crossing the market-place of Plymouth towards one of the side streets, when Timothy observed Sir Francis Drake standing at the doorway of a mercer's shop. Sir Francis, in spite of his long friendship with Lord Champernoun, had avoided Modbury Manor ever since the arrival there of Jasper Oglander, giving as his reason the excuse that he was extremely busy in the work of making new fortifications on St. Nicholas Island. His gaze now rested upon the figures of three men who stood at some thirty yards away from him. One of them was Jasper Oglander. His companions were Don Miguel Fernandes, the chief of the Spanish prisoners of war, and young Andrea de Ortega.
Timothy touched Gilbert's elbow.
"There stands your uncle, Master Gilbert," said he, "holding speech with our enemies of Spain."
"Ay," returned Gilbert, showing no surprise. "Haply he is giving the poor fellows some consolation in their affliction."
"'Tis such consolation as Sir Francis Drake doth not wholly approve of," said Timothy, "for look you, there he goes towards them to interrupt their conspiracies!"
Gilbert gave a light laugh.
"Conspiracies, forsooth!" said he. "Your mind doth ever run upon such fancies, Tim. Dost imagine that my uncle, even if he had a mind to conspire,—which is impossible in one of his upright and honourable nature,—would be so simple as to carry on such doubtful business in the public streets? Od's life, Tim, y'are even as suspicious as Christopher Pym, who approached me this morning with a long, woeful face and declared that he had come upon my aunt, Donna Lela, muttering Romish prayers over her beads and crossing herself like a veritable Papist! Christopher bade me go with him and bear eye-witness to his strange discovery, and I found the woman innocently engaged in unwinding a skein of silk that Pym had mistaken for a rosary, and crooning a quaint Portuguese love-song that he had taken for a paternoster! So I had the laugh of Christopher, as I now have of thee, Master Timothy, for mark you how Sir Francis is now passing your imagined conspirators, who are doubtless talking of no more serious subject than the price of bread!"
"Ay, but they have separated for all that," remarked Timothy, observing that Jasper Oglander at sight of Drake had bidden a hasty farewell to the two Spaniards. It was upon the point of Timothy's tongue to retort further by informing his young master of the conversation he had overheard some days before between Sir Francis and old Hartop concerning Jasper. But at that moment they were met at the street corner by a tall, broad-shouldered young gallant, by name Roland Grenville, who grasped Gilbert's hands very heartily and congratulated him on his so easy recovery from his late hurts.
"Tut! my hurts were scarce worth the mention," quoth Gilbert. "Prithee, speak of other matters, and tell me—hath Sir Richard yet returned from London?"