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"Well, boy, what do you think of it?" asked Andrew Scollay, who was passing at the time. "It's very wonderful," said Archy. "All God's works are wonderful," observed old Andrew.
"Not him!" said Mr. Scollay, "he bides in Ransay." I pricked up my ears at this, and my spy-hunt seemed suddenly a much more promising venture. Some of the difficulties of playing a lone hand had already become apparent.
Nevertheless, when the Seamew had unloaded and been warped to a berth in an outer tier of small craft to await her turn to load barrels and box shooks for a concern at Paulmouth, Captain Tunis started up into the city. He knew his way about Boston as well as any one not a native, and his first objective point was that restaurant on Scollay Square.
Memory of that pale, violet-eyed girl who worked in the restaurant on Scollay Square flashed across his mind like a shooting star. Indeed, he was so confused that he heard only a little at first of Cap'n Ira's rambling explanation.
At the same time nobody broke into whispered German, or made any comment that could conceivably be taken for a pass-word. I thought I would try giving them one myself. "Are there many sheep in this island?" I asked. Jock emitted another blast of genial laughter and Mr. Scollay as cautiously as ever replied, "A good few."
"As for the Scollay family nothing against them whatever, except that they live at a lonely spot on the shore, which I should say was rather their misfortune than their fault." "And the old boy on the road, who, Miss Rendall declared, doesn't exist?" "How long did you give her to run over all the inhabitants of the island? Did she look up a list of them, or a rent roll or anything?"
"I am Archy Hughson, sir, and Andrew Scollay, and David Saunders, and Foubister, the carpenter of a ship which took us on board, are out there I hope the bears have not hurt them." "I trust not," said the captain; "but come along, laddie, to the ship tell me more as you go. You seem scarcely able to stand." Archy was, indeed, gasping for breath, and well nigh dropping from fatigue and excitement.
With a little difficulty I made my hosts take payment for my night's lodging, and then asked for directions to the laird's mansion. "You'll no can miss it," said Mr. Scollay. "It's the big house. Just keep along the road and you'll see it afore you."
Swiftly I ran over in my mind my first night with the Scollay household. Had I ever been told Jock was a son? No, I had simply assumed it, and gone on that assumption without ever once thinking anything more about the matter. And so, with this impenetrable curtain between me and all possibility of guessing the truth I had gone on uselessly groping. "Fool!" A harsh voice startled me.
"I was going through Scollay Square in Boston one evening and I heard a street evangelist holding forth. He was preaching on the subject, 'Bondage. Sin he called Pharaoh. And he was hammering the hearers with texts from Exodus. The idea hit me. I hung up beside the curb till he was through preaching, then I invited him to take a ride with me in my car. And a wise old bird I found him to be!
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