Jerningham set forth exactly the situation. He laid stress on his requirement that the meeting should occur within the next two days. But he said nothing of the projected voyage; nor did he mention the circumstances in which he had first seen the girl. When he told her name and abode, he looked for any possible sign of recognition on the captain's part. But none came; Ravenshaw had never learned who was the heroine of that February night's incident.
When Jerningham took his departure, the captain strode over to where Holyday awaited him.
"Rogue's work," said Ravenshaw; "but a rogue am I, and there's an end. I must get access to a rich man's house, and to the private ear of a wench; and move her to meet secretly a gentleman she knows not; and all within two days. How is it to be done?"
"Is the rich man a gentleman—of the true gentry, I mean—or is he a citizen here, a man of trade?" queried Holyday. "If a man of trade, the way to his house, or his anything, is to make him think there's money to be got out of you."
"He is a goldsmith in Cheapside."
"Why, then, let me see. There is a goldsmith lives there, somewhere, knows my father. They were friends together in their youth, in Kent. I haven't met him since I was a small lad; but I might go to him as straight from my father; and then introduce you as a country gentleman; and so he might be got to commend you to the goldsmith you seek."
"There's no time for roundabout ways. Yet your father's friend may serve us one way or another. What's his name?"
"Thomas Etheridge. As I remember, my father—"
"What? Why, death of my life! 'tis my very goldsmith; the one whose daughter I must have speech with. Faith, here's a miracle to help us— of the devil's working, no doubt. This Etheridge knows not you are at odds with your father?"