“Yes, I’ve heard so. They don’t speak well of him anywhere. Even the old landlord of the Allerdale Arms don’t like him; and when Martin Vanyard turns against a smuggler you may be sure there’s a reason for it.”
“I was not aware, before,” said Percy, “that Captain Tryon had never shown himself at the castle. However, he doesn’t appear to spend much of his time in this section any way. As soon as his vessel gets in he is sure to be off. Where he goes I do not know; and, to tell the truth, I care less. There is something about the man that puzzles me, and for that I would like to gain a more intimate acquaintance. I would like to follow him on one of his journeys and see what he does with himself—where he goes, and in what guise he appears when there.”
“Eh! D’ye fancy he’s playin’ a kind of hide and seek?—that he’s got another character?”
“Yes. I am sure of it, and I intend to unmask him one of these days. In fact, the time may not be far distant.”
“Well, if he’s as big a rascal as I’ve heard it whispered, I hope he may be nabbed very soon.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the youth, with a slight start, and a curious look into the old man’s face, “what sort of whispers have you heard, Michael?”
The steward hesitated. After gazing for a time into his glass, and taking a swallow of wine, he said:
“Really, Percy, I don’t know as I ought to speak; but then it’s no secret, and it’s whispered pretty loudly, too. They say—I’ve heard old Martin at the inn say—that there was more carried on by the new captain of the Staghound than smuggling. I s’pose you know what that means?”
“Yes. I know. Has it come to the earl’s ears?”
“I’m not sure; but I think it has. Mebbe, Percy, you know about it.”