She had given in at last.  But her spirit seemed broken altogether.

II

“There is one more matter,” said Robin presently, uncrossing one splashed leg from over the other.  “I had not thought to speak of it; but I think it best now to do so.  It concerns myself a little; and, therefore, if I may flatter myself, it concerns my friends, too.”

He smiled genially upon the company; for if there was one thing more than another he had learned in his travels, it was that the tragic air never yet helped any man.

Marjorie lifted her eyes a moment.

“Mistress Manners,” he said, “you remember my speaking to you after Fotheringay, of a fellow of my lord Shrewsbury’s who honoured me with his suspicions?”

She nodded.

“I have never set eyes on him from that day to this—­to this,” he added.  “And this morning in the open street in Derby whom should I meet with but young Merton and his father. (Her Grace’s servants have suffered horribly since last year.  But that is a tale for another day.) Well:  I stopped to speak with these two.  The young man hath left Mr. Melville’s service a while back, it seems; and is to try his fortune in France.  Well; we were speaking of this and that, when who should come by but a party of men and my lord Shrewsbury in the midst, riding with Mr. Roger Columbell; and immediately behind them my friend of the ‘New Inn’ of Fotheringay.  It was all the ill-fortune in the world that it should be at such moment; if he had seen me alone he would have thought no more of me; but seeing me with young Jack Merton, he looked from one to the other.  And I will stake my hat he knew me again.”

Marjorie was looking full at him now.

“What was my lord Shrewsbury doing in Derby with Mr. Columbell?” mused Mr. John, biting his moustaches.

“It was the very question I put to myself,” said Robin.  “And I took the liberty of seeing where they went.  They went to Mr. Columbell’s own house, and indoors of it.  The serving-men held the horses at the door.  I watched them awhile from Mr. Biddell’s window; but they were still there when I came away at last.”

“What hour was that?” asked the old man.

“That would be after dinner-time.  I had dined early; and I met them afterwards.  My lord would surely be dining with Mr. Columbell.  But that is no answer to my question.  It rather pierces down to the further point, Why was my lord Shrewsbury dining with Mr. Columbell?  Shrewsbury is a great lord; Mr. Columbell is a little magistrate.  My lord hath his own house in the country, and there be good inns in Derby.”

He stopped short.

“What is the matter, Mistress Manners?” he asked.

“What of yourself?” she said sharply; “you were speaking of yourself.”

Robin laughed.

“I had forgotten myself for once!...  Why, yes; I intended to ask the company what I had best do.  What with this news of Mr. Simpson, and the report Mistress Manners gives us of the country-folk, a poor priest must look to himself in these days; and not for his own sake only.  Now, my lord Shrewsbury’s man knows nothing of me except that I had strange business at Fotheringay a year ago.  But to have had strange business at Fotheringay a year ago is a suspicious circumstance; and—­”