"Pots will have a busy day. Hi, Jack, Sue, Marjorie, here—all of you—run, now, fill up the brown jugs. The French have had one on the nose, and are stopping to think it over! Run, you beggars, kisses all round for the wenches. Toss the brown ale down and be merry."
Jeremy took the news and a jug of ale to Squire Christopher.
"Villeneuve has been headed out of the Channel, sir."
"Murder my soul, Jerry, news—that's news. Let all the apothecaries go to blazes. Give me a drink, man; the jug will do. Here's to the roast beef. We'll soon have lad Jasper home, eh?"
Jeremy kept a stolid face.
"Count on that, Kit; we'll soon have the lad home."
But he went down to join Goffin, with a grim mouth and thoughtful eyes.
"This is good for the country, Goffin, but over yonder it may mean something dangerous. And here is Kit calling out for the lad——"
Goffin emptied his mug for the third time.
"The game is up for the scoundrel. He knows it by now."