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"Very well," said he, "please yourself;" and ringing the bell he called the Deputy Marshal, and said, "Recollect, Sir, to see that Mr. Hunt is properly accommodated at Davey's, whilst he remains here, and in the meantime, till his family comes to town, take care that he has the run of the key." That is, to pass out and into the prison whenever I pleased.
"The colour is not yellow enough for my liking. Is the boat ready?" "Ay." "Then let us be going whilst the breeze holds easterly." Ian Davey's lad came out of the boathouse with a pair of oars on his shoulders. He went down to a little fisher boat that rocked gently against the end of the wooden jetty. The two sailor-men followed him.
My friend and I would like a few minutes' private investigation in the study." SIR CRICHTON DAVEY'S study was a small one, and a glance sufficed to show that, as the secretary had said, it offered no hiding-place.
The intervals between the flights of the clothes seem shorter than they are; this is again due to hypnotic influence, as in spiritistic performances and in conjuring, where, as M. Binet has recently remarked, a little hypnotism always comes in. Thus in Mr. Austin Podmore's account of Mr. Davey's seance, his attention was called away for two or three minutes without his noting it.
I thanked him sincerely for his handsome behaviour, but I told him that I had procured very comfortable lodgings at his old coachman's, Davey's, over the coffee-room; and as I did not expect my family in town for a month or six weeks, I would remain where I was till that time, when I would accept his offer.
But, shortly afterward, when Freeman began his speech, it was evident that his love of historical truth and his devotion to church principles would not permit him to pass this part of Davey's harangue unnoticed.
"The most astonishing feature of Monsieur Davey's investigation," writes the author of this account, "is not the marvellousness of the tricks themselves, but the extreme weakness of the reports made with respect to them by the noninitiated witnesses.
"'Tis better than putting sword to their throats and pricking out the information. Art going alone?" "No; meet me at Ian Davey's boathouse at sunset. Let Ned keep an eye on yon two."
"Where am I to sleep?" he asked, "I feel very sick." "Babby," said one of the sailors, "what's your name?" "Williams." "Well, Bill, you'll have to get over your sickness pretty soon, I can tell ye. Here," he added, relenting a little, "Davey's slung ye a hammock in the forecastle."
The springtide sun set ruddily and frostily across the Sound; and as the fiery ball hung for a moment on the western shore, a broad pathway like a pathway of rippling blood, or deep-tinged, running gold, went in a line from Ian Davey's boatyard to the Cornish coast. "An omen!" cried Dan, seeing with the eye of the superstitious sailor. "We sail to wealth over a golden sea." Nick shook his head.
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