Again I paused to scan his face; for verily the whole thing struck me as a most uncanny echo of that fateful meeting by the roadside less than a week before. But now, for all his bloodshot eyes and ale-marked face, it seemed as though I stood before a lusty, honest fellow. Moreover, when I came to think on it, a risk the more or less was of but small account, for who could suffer now except myself? Therefore:
"Fane--Michael Fane," I answered.
"Fane!" muttered Coram, with a thoughtful stroking of his beard. "Fane! That sounds familiar. Where did I hear it, now? Ah, I have it! 'Twas yesternight, as I kept guard in yonder street, I heard two fellows muttering round a corner. Their voices were so low that I could make little of the conversation, but more than once I caught the words 'Black Box' and 'Fane'. I tried to creep a little closer, but they heard me, and, coming out, slunk off."
"Ha! so? And could you see them? Didst make out who they were?" I asked, scarce able to prevent my hands from clutching him.
"Nay, for the moon was hid, the night full dark, and they passed by upon the other side. But they were friends--not foes--of that I am assured, for when I challenged them they gave the password of the night."
"You could make nothing of them, then?"
"Nay, naught; save that both were tall, and one--him nearest to me--wore a long black cloak."
"And did you mark which road they went?"
"Aye, verily, I followed them a little way, and saw them hurrying off towards the sea. But, say, why show you so much interest in this matter? Truly, they used thy name, but that doth count for little, being friends. Stay, though," he added quickly, "hast lost anything--a box, for instance?"
"No," I answered slowly. "I have lost my father."