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Updated: June 27, 2025
Brocton's dragoons would have turned up hours ago if there was any intention of trying to recapture me. Freake had sent one of his men down the road to give us time to clear off if Brocton did pursue. That was why I was content to stay on at the inn." "Weir knows who you are, sir, I take it?" said I. "Exactly. He's a notorious Government spy, and is busy here worming into our local plans.
He bent over the hearth to relight his pipe. Master Freake smiled and rubbed his hands gently. Margaret's eyes blazed with triumph, and challenged me, still me, to share it. Woman-logic was clean beyond my poor wits. I was sick for action. These glorious interludes with Margaret gave me no chance. It was like setting me afire and asking me not to burn.
Freake has declared that Miss Waynflete is to be his sole heiress," he replied. I had to thump Tiverton to prevent him being choked by something that went the wrong way. We had an excited talk about the news, which Sir James had received direct from Master Freake, which settled it as a fact beyond dispute or change. Margaret was now the most desirable match in London from every point of view.
His conduct was to me wholly inexplicable. Then, too, there was his obvious understanding with Major Tixall in the matter of the latter's attack on Master Freake. Who was this stranger and why had he incurred Brocton's enmity? Here was a whole string of puzzles awaiting solution. But before I could start the conversation we were again interrupted.
Through all this talk I was turning over in my mind what account, if any, we were to give Master Freake of our being here. If I had had only myself to consider I should have trusted him without hesitation. He was the sort of man that inspires confidence, his grave, serene, intelligent face having strength and steadfastness written in every line of it.
Master Freake kept a rigid silence over the contents of that famous document "about lands," and I had no wish to know. It was worth a thousand acres and near ten thousand guineas to the Earl. I was satisfied if he was. I put my guineas in a bank of Master Freake's choosing. What a dowry I could have given Kate if My Lord Brocton was in town.
It was a great comfort to know they were safe, for there were sad relics of my escapade in London the row of ghastly, grinning heads over Temple Bar. Soon after my arrival, Master Freake had sent for his lawyers and delivered to me in full possession the Upper Hanyards and the huge tale of guineas which the rascal old earl had disgorged as the price of the letter.
Yet Brocton dared not look at him again, as he shuffled forward on his man's arm to speak to Master Freake. "Mr. Freake," he piped, laying an imploring hand on the merchant's arm, "you will not be too hard on my foolish son?" It was the old rascal Earl of Ridgeley. I had not seen him since the trial, when I was but a lad.
It is a wonder that he died in his bed rather than on the block, but he was as wary as he was zealous. For nine years I lived here the life of a hermit, alone with my debts and my books. Then I met a young girl" his voice broke badly "who became to me the all-in-all of my life. By good fortune I also met Master Freake, who took my affairs in hand for me and has helped me wisely and generously."
"At the 'Ring o' Bells," began Master Freake, addressing me, "you took from my lord Brocton's sergeant, now dead, a bundle of papers?" "Yes, sir." "Among them a letter addressed simply, 'To His Royal Highness'?" "That is so, sir." "You gave that letter to me, unopened, in the presence of Mistress Waynflete?" "I did," said I, and Margaret nodded agreement.
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