This news of Vetch’s presence was staggering.  As Sir Richard’s attorney he had, I supposed, full power to administer the estate, or to sell it if he pleased; but I thought it a monstrous proceeding if he did this without Mistress Lucy’s consent.  I had no belief in his honesty, and suspected that he would take a pretty picking of the purchase money for himself.  The absence of letters from Mistress Lucy was disquieting.  The presence of the man who had been Cludde’s companion in the abduction must be obnoxious to her, and it seemed strange that she had not written to her friends in Spanish Town, and had allowed the report of a projected marriage with Cludde to pass unchecked.

A notion that she might be under some constraint put me in a ferment, and I resolved to ride to Penolver and see for myself how matters stood, and to let Vetch know that, even though I could not dispute his legal status, he would at least have me to reckon with if he subjected Lucy to any annoyance or duress.

Returning to the port, I begged leave of Captain Vincent to go for a few days’ visit to a friend on the north side of the island, not acquainting him with any particulars, because I felt that Mistress Lucy would not like her affairs discussed.  He demurred at first, saying that we could not tell when we might have to put to sea; but on my reminding him that the work of refitting and cleaning after the voyage would take some time, and promising to return within a week, he yielded.

I set off early next morning, being provided by my merchant friend, Mr. Gurney, with a trusty companion and guide in the person of a smiling negro.  At first I had purposed to ride alone, but my friend said that, while I had only to follow the direct road for about half my journey, which could take me through the well-settled parish of St. John, afterwards I should run great risk of losing my way in the cockpit country, maybe stumbling upon a settlement of wild maroons, or stepping into one of the impassable sink holes whose grass-grown surface gives no warning of the treacherous chasm below.

We rode till eleven o’clock, when the air became too hot for comfortable traveling, and entered a rest house kept by a black friend of my companion.  He met us at the door, his face shining with heat and good temper.

“Good mornin’, Massa; hope I see you well,” says he.  “Hi, Jacob, where you bin dis long time?”

He led the way most obsequiously into a large room with a sanded floor.  It was cool and dark after the outside air, being shaded with green jalousies at the windows.  I sat down, glad to escape from the heat, and Jacob went off with the host to enjoy a chat and prepare me a meal.  Drowsy with the warmth, I was half dozing when a rough voice aroused me with a start.

“Mornin’, yer honor.”

My eyes being now accustomed to the dim light, I saw a man seated at a table at the farther end of the room.  He was a burly fellow, with a look of the sea dog about him.