“At what time will Mr. Pennington be here?” she demanded.
“At half-past eleven, at the back gate, miss,” he answered, doubting if he heard aright.
“Tell him I shall be ready,” she said; and before he could reply she had vanished among the vines.
The master-at-arms stood looking after her for a moment, and then made his way out of the garden, keeping a bright lookout for Mr. Inglefield. He found his bulla-carta, after some trouble, in front of a stray wine-shop which was built in the wall, and into which he dived precipitately in search of his Jehus. It is to be doubted if either of them understood the choice maritime invectives that he heaped upon them impartially for hiding themselves; but they motioned him into the vehicle with soothing urbanity, and started for the convent above, blissfully oblivious to the occasional mutterings from within.
Upon his arrival at the convent, the master-at-arms proceeded, by a judicious use of Mr. Keegan’s funds, to make arrangements with the sled-owners, by which every sled was to be ready for descent at eleven o’clock. He impressed upon them that a large party of gentlemen of his acquaintance wished to make the descent by moonlight. One and all promised that it should be as the senhor wished, although each had his private doubts about the moonlight. This done, the master-at-arms descended to Funchal, where he found Mr. Keegan awaiting him in the wine-shop, engaged in making life unbearable for the Portuguese occupants. On the entrance of the master-at-arms he desisted abruptly from this pastime, and drew him into a corner.
“Well, Chimmy, is it a go?” he asked.
The master-at-arms regarded him in a way that plainly signified his approbation of such an arch-diplomatist, and then launched into a glowing description of his share of the transaction, interspersed with frequent reproaches for not informing him beforehand of the true state of affairs. Mr. Keegan listened with evident satisfaction.
“She ain’t goin’ to take no trunks, is she?” he inquired, with some apprehension.
The master-at-arms confessed he had forgotten to caution the young lady on this point.
“Women, Chimmy,” said Mr. Keegan, profoundly, “will never leave any spare riggin’ behind if they ain’t made to.”