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Updated: May 14, 2025
My dear Lydia, a fellow roaming the country in a red coat, drill trousers, and a japanned hat!" "It would obviously excite remark: so obviously that the likelihood might even occur to the man himself." Mr. Rogers looked crestfallen for a moment. "You suggest that by this time he has changed his rig?" "I suggest, rather, that he started by changing it, say, as far back as St. Mawes.
His tale was that he had a relative to visit at Plymouth Dock, and meant to push on that night so far as Probus, and there sleep and wait for Russell's waggon." "But his road," I objected, "wouldn't lie through Gerrans village, unless he went by the short cut through the field beyond St. Mawes, and took the ferry at Percuil."
Mawes packet plying to and fro. I had a mind to steal down to the Market Strand and interrogate her skipper. I had a mind and laid more than one plan for it to follow up my first impulse of bolting for home, to discover if Captain Coffin had arrived there. But Mrs. Stimcoe, misinterpreting my eagerness to be employed, had by this time enlisted me into full service in the sick-room.
Rogers set down knife and fork, and stared at her with round eyes, his jaws slowly chewing. "And I reckon," concluded Miss Belcher, "that you won't dispute your owing me a guinea." "Wait a bit!" Mr. Rogers pushed his empty plate away, selected a clean one, and helped himself to six slices of ham. "To begin with, I've found scent and laid on the hounds." "Where?" "At St. Mawes.
Mawes, while he was drinking gin-and-water in the taproom, another man came to the door of the Lugger. This man sent for the landlord Bogue by name and asked to be shown into a private room. He was dressed in odds-and-ends of garments, including a soiled regimental coat and dirty linen trousers." "The French prisoner!" said I. "That's the man.
Mawes. When there's serious business to be discussed I always thank a Providence that clears the men out of the way." I glanced at Captain Branscome. Assuredly he had come with no intention at all of unbosoming himself before a couple of ladies. He desired desired desperately, I felt sure to confide in me alone.
One of the criminals, Tredenham, escaped with impunity. For the dominion of his family over the borough of St. Mawes was absolute even to a proverb. The other two had the fate which they deserved. Davenant ceased to sit for Bedwin.
Well, you can hand him the key to-morrow, with my message. An' now I'll tell you my next notion. The St. Mawes packet" this was the facetious name given to a small cutter which plied in those days between Falmouth and the small village of St. Mawes across the harbour "the St. Mawes packet is due to start at seven-thirty.
I had done better, perhaps, to stand where I was. How long he had been observing me if, indeed, he had observed me I could not tell. But, as I drew back, he advanced and strolled nonchalantly past me, at five yards distance, down to the quay-steps. "All aboard for St. Mawes!" called the skipper, drawing in his plank.
Mawes packet lay there, and I stood on the edge of the quay, watching her preparations for casting off the skipper clearing the gangway and politely helping aboard, between the warning notes of his whistle, belated marketers who came running with their bundles. While I stood there, a man sauntered out and stood for a moment on the threshold of the Plume of Feathers.
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