She stood looking down at him with her uncompromising eyes.
"God grant that you do know nothing. We must wait—and be patient. Remember, now, that you are at the mercy of these friends of mine—who know. It would have been better if you had trusted me a little."
[XXVIII]
Jeremy stopped at the "Queen's Head" Inn at Sedlescombe for some bread and cheese and a mug of ale. He was an old campaigner and remembered the needs of the inner man.
The landlord of the "Queen's Head" appeared to be a person of sense. He had a shrewd, well-shaved face, and a mouth that spoke pleasantly, but was always able to keep something back. Jeremy chatted with him for twenty minutes. He had a queer way of getting hold of men, of making them feel the grip of his character. Jeremy asked for the Brick House.
"You mean Mounseer de Rotten's place, sir?"
"That name's good enough."
"Go straight down the village, over yon hill, and take a lane to the right. You'll see the house in a hollow."
The landlord and Jeremy looked at each other as though neither took the other for a fool.
"Does mounseer keep a big staff of servants?"