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I don't know where he gets them from, but they are the best I ever tasted." "He probably smuggles 'em," said Saltash, offering her a match. "No, I don't," said Dick, rather shortly. "I get them from a man in town. A fellow I once met Ivor Yardley, the K. C. first introduced me to them. I get them through his secretary who has some sort of interest in the trade." A sudden silence fell.
Plenty of willing hands gave the Omnibus a lift and then did a like service for the Arrow. As they rose, aviators and passengers alike waved a farewell to Lord James Ivor, and he and the Englishmen about him waved back. But the thousands lying on the grass slept heavily on, while the cannon on their utmost fringe thundered and crashed and the German cannon crashed and thundered, replying.
The lady turned to Mr. Dacre. In her voice there was a ring of anguish. "Mr. Dacre, tell me, was it a Pickford's van?" Ivor could only imitate his relative's repetition of her inquiry. "I don't quite catch you was what a Pickford's van?" The duchess clasped her hands in front of her. "What is it you are keeping from me? What is it you are trying to hide?
"But I didn't try the handle of the door, as I had of the gate. I rang. I couldn't bring myself to take you unawares." "Do you think still that I let a man in, and hid him when I heard you ring?" I asked. I saw how his suspicions of me came crawling into his heart, though he strove to lash them back. I dared not bring Ivor out from the other room, if he were still there.
Thus the shrewd old shepherd, Vifil, naturally takes the place of the royal huntsman, Ivor; and Saxo, quite naturally, gives the story a marked Danish geographical and historical setting, which he does by introducing such names as Fyen and Seeland, and by connecting the Danish royal family in the beginning of the story with those of Sweden and Gautland.
For awhile Lisa and I were almost sure not to be interrupted; but I spoke out abruptly what was in my mind, not wishing to lose a minute. "I think the only thing for us to do," I said, "is to tell what we know, and save Ivor in spite of himself." "How can anything you know save him?" she asked, with a queer, faint emphasis which I didn't understand.
But to me they meant a threat, and as a threat they were intended. My talk with Godensky at the stage door, my pause to pick him up, and my second pause to set him down, had all taken time, of which I had had little enough at the starting, if I were to meet Ivor Dundas when he arrived.
I kept reminding myself on the boat and the train that nothing good could happen; that Ivor and I could never be as we had been before; that it was all over between us for ever and ever, and through his fault. But, there at the bottom was the thought that I might have done him an injustice, because he had begged me to trust him, and I wouldn't.
"Ivor is unusually keen to help us to-day," remarked the laird, with a peculiar look; but no one was sufficiently disengaged to listen to or answer him. At that critical moment Junkie took it into his unaccountable head to scramble to the fore part of the boat, in order, as he said, to lend a hand with a rope.
Jackman replied, with a laugh, that he had never performed that curious operation on anything but socks that, indeed, he had never heard of such a thing being done. "I knew it was a cracker," said Junkie. "What d'you mean by a cracker, my boy?" inquired Jackman. "A lie," said Junkie, promptly. "And who told the cracker?" "Ivor. He tells me a great, great many stories."
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