“I will keep it so always.  Dear stain!” and she bent and kissed the mark my blood had left.

I thanked the neighbours for coming so promptly to my help, and as we stood for a moment at the road leading to Dos d’Ane, where Abraham Guille would break off to get back to his work, my grandfather stopped them.

“Phil brings us strange and monstrous news,” he said weightily.  “It is well you should know, for we may need your neighbourly help again.  John Ozanne’s ship was sunk by the French, privateer, Main Rouge, and John Ozanne himself and such of his men as tried to save themselves were shot in the water as they swam for their lives, and that was cold-blooded murder.  Phil here saw what was toward and saved his life by floating under a spar and sail.  And this Main Rouge who did this thing is Torode of Herm—­”

At which they broke into exclamations of astonishment.  “He fought under both flags.  No wonder he waxed so fat!  He knows that Phil has his secret.  I fear he will give us no rest, and it is well the matter should be known to others in case—­you understand.”

“He is preparing to leave Herm,” I said.  “They were loading the schooner all night long.  I ought to have gone across to Peter Port to lay my information before them there, but, you understand, Carette was more important to me.  But surely Sercq need fear nothing from Herm,” I said, looking round on them.

“Ah, you don’t know,” said my grandfather.  “We are but few here just now.  So many are away—­to the wars and the free-trading.  How many men does Torode carry?”

“With those on Herm, sixty to eighty, I should say.”

“He could harry us to his heart’s content if he knew it;” and Abraham Guille went off soberly to Dos d’Ane, and the rest of us went on to our homes.

My grandfather was full of thought, and I saw that he was anxious on our account.  And now that the excitement was over, my shoulder began to throb and shoot.  Every movement was painful to it, and I felt suddenly worn out and very weary.  Carette must have seen it in my face, for she said—­

“Lean on me, Phil dear.  Aunt Jeanne will doctor you as soon as we get there;” and I leaned on her, for the touch of her was very comforting to me, and my right arm was happy if my left was not, and I was content.

“Go on to Jeanne Falla, you two,” said my grandfather, when we came to La Vauroque, “and ask her to see to your arm, Phil.  She is a famous doctor.  I must see George Hamon.”

Aunt Jeanne cut away the sleeves of my coat and shirt, and saw to my wound with the tenderest care, and many a bitter word for the cause of it.  The bullet had gone clean through the muscles and had probably grazed the bone, she thought, but had not broken it.  She washed it, and bound it up with soft rags and simples of her own compounding, while Carette fetched and carried for her.  Then she set my arm in a sling, and but for the fact that I had only one arm to use, and so felt very lopsided, and deadly tired, I was still in much greater content than two whole arms and the highest of spirits had ever found me.