While they were clustered about Black Feather's couch, D'Antons entered. He peered over Dame Trigget's ample shoulders and looked considerably surprised at finding an unconscious, emaciated Beothic the centre of attraction.
"What's this?" he asked. "A tragedy or a comedy?"
His tone was sour, and too bantering for the occasion.
The baronet turned on him with an expression of mouth and eye that did not pass unnoticed by the little group.
"Certainly not a comedy, monsieur," he replied, coldly; "and we hope it will not prove a tragedy."
CHAPTER XIV. A TRICK OF PLAY-ACTING
Meals were not served in Captain d'Antons' cabin. The little settlement possessed but one servant among all its workers, and that one was Maggie Stone, Mistress Westleigh's old nurse. The care of Sir Ralph's establishment was all she could attend to. So the men who had no women-folk of their own to cook for them were fed by Dame Trigget and her sturdy daughter Joyce, or by the Donnelly women. Kingswell and D'Antons took their meals at Dame Trigget's table, and were served by themselves, with every mark of respect. Ouenwa, Tom Bent, Harding, and Clotworthy shared the Donnellys' board.
A few hours after Black Feather's rescue, Kingswell and D'Antons sat opposite one another at a small table near the hearth of the Triggets' living-room. A stew of venison and a bottle of French wine stood between them. D'Antons took up the bottle, and made as if to fill the other's glass.