Carterette took him into every room in the house save her own and the
Chevalier's. In the kitchen and in Detricand's bedroom Olivier
Delagarde's eyes were very busy. He saw that the kitchen opened on the
garden, which had a gate in the rear wall. He also saw that the lozenge-
paned windows swung like doors, and were not securely fastened; and he
tried the trap-door in Detricand's bedroom to see the water flowing
beneath, just as it did when he was young--Yes, there it was running
swiftly away to the sea! Then he babbled all the way to the door that
led into the street; for now he would stay no longer.

When he had gone, Carterette sat wondering why it was that Ranulph's
father should inspire her with such dislike. She knew that at this
moment no man in Jersey was so popular as Olivier Delagarde. The longer
she thought the more puzzled she became. No sooner had she got one
theory than another forced her to move on. In the language of her
people, she did not know on which foot to dance.

As she sat and thought, Detricand entered, loaded with parcels and
bundles. These were mostly gifts for her father and herself; and for
du Champsavoys there was a fine delft shaving-dish, shaped like a
quartermoon to fit the neck. They were distributed, and by the time
supper was over, it was quite dark. Then Detricand said his farewells,
for it was ten o'clock, and he must be away at three, when his boat was
to steal across to Brittany, and land him near to the outposts of the
Royalist army under de la Rochejaquelein. There were letters to write
and packing yet to do. He set to work gaily.

At last everything was done, and he was stooping over a bag to fasten it.
The candle was in the window. Suddenly a hand--a long, skinny hand--