"Then I assure you of it," replied Fleetword; "and let this convince you
of my truth, that I love the sweet lady, Constance Cecil, too well, to
see her shadowed even by such dishonour as your words treat of.--Sir
Willmott, Sir Willmott! you have shown the cloven foot!"
"Look out on the waters, Sir Willmott Burrell," shouted the Jewess, in
her wild voice: "look out on the waters, and see the sail and the signal
of the brave Buccaneer!"
Burrell looked anxiously, and earnestly; but he could perceive nothing
of which she spoke. When he turned towards the spot where Zillah had
stood--she was gone!
"All this is of the evil one," said Fleetword, after peering among the
old walls, and approaching his nose so closely to the larger stones,
that it might be imagined he was smelling, not looking at
them.--"Whither has the creature escaped?"
"Verily, I know not," was Burrell's reply. "Best come with me into the
Gull's Nest; I would speak with Robin."
The unsuspicious preacher did as he was desired.
Sir Willmott inquired for the Ranger. His mother said, truly, "He was
gone a journey."
"For Hugh Dalton?"
"He had joined his ship."
He then managed privately to ask for the secret key of a place called
"the Cage," where contraband goods, not wanted for ready sale, were
generally deposited. It had no communication with any of the private
chambers, except by a narrow passage, which, leading to no other place,
was seldom traversed. Into this cage he managed to get Fleetword,
saying, "It was one of the ways out;" and while the preacher was looking
round with much curiosity, he turned the key, placed it safely in his
vest, and, without saying a word to Mother Hays, who, at such an early
hour was just beginning to be very busy, left the Gull's Nest with much
self-congratulation.
"Stay safely there but till another morning, poor meddling fool!" he
murmured; "and then, for your sweet Constantia's sake, you'll keep my
secret, and resign these cursed papers."
It is not to be imagined that Sir Willmott Burrell would, upon any
account, have suffered Zillah to make her appearance at Cecil Place. His
existence seemed now to hang upon her destruction; but instruments were
wanting: Roupall had been sent out of the way by Hugh Dalton, and
tidings were in vain expected of or from Jeromio. The slight relief
afforded by the imprisonment of Fleetword was speedily succeeded by a
state of mind bordering on madness.