The Guinea Stamp Read Online Free PDF Page A

the fireplace. He could hear Nobby’s voice, however, explaining the impossibility of something which his visitors were urging.
    “Well, at least the men may have a drink, and warm themselves for a while by the fire in the taproom, I suppose,” came the reply in irritable tones. “Send in a bottle of wine and a bite to eat for this officer and myself. It’s damned cold in here—can’t you offer us a fire?”
    “I’ll have the wench kindle one for your honour at once,” said Nobby. “But I dunno about victuals—”
    “Do so, and look sharp about it. The men must be better off in the tap than we are here,” was the terse reply.
    The listeners heard the shuffling of the big man’s feet as he hastened to obey this command, and just then the visitors moved into Jackson’s line of vision. He saw at once that they were not, as Nobby had feared, Customs men at all, but two officers of the local Volunteers, arrayed in a striking uniform of scarlet with dark blue facings. The younger of the two bore the insignia of a captain: he was a tall, handsome man with very blond hair curling over his head in the fashionable style known as a Brutus. His senior officer was short and stocky with iron grey hair. He carried himself erect, and spoke in short, clipped sentences. He awakened a chord of recollection in Captain Jackson’s mind. He felt that he had certainly met the Colonel before; though where, he could not for the moment remember. It was this circumstance which caused him to remain a little longer at his peep hole.
    The door opened again to admit a thin little serving maid in grey homespun, carrying materials for kindling a fire. She set about her task with the energy of a terrier worrying at a rat, and in a short time, the wood burst into flame.
    “That’s better!” remarked the Colonel flinging himself into a chair and extending his booted legs towards the blaze. “Give it another go with the bellows, girl!”
    But the maid seemed not to attend. The Colonel, nettled, repeated his command in a military voice. She looked round, vaguely, then appeared to comprehend, for she applied the bellows vigorously.
    “I think she’s hard of hearing, sir,” explained the captain, who had been watching her keenly. “Come to think of it, she must be, else she would have roused the landlord sooner when we were trying to get into the place.”
    “Very likely you’re right,” agreed the Colonel. “That’ll do, girl—I say, that’ll do! Off you go!”
    She did not hear the first remark, but at the second, she gathered up her tools and scuttled away like a frightened grey mouse.
    “Queer place this,” said the Colonel in a casual tone. “Evidently don’t welcome visitors—wonder how they make a living, stuck down in the river like this, away from trade?”
    “I wouldn’t be surprised to learn,” remarked the younger man, with a slow smile, “that the really important part of the ‘The Waterman’s’ business is not conducted in the taproom.”
    “Eh?”
    The Colonel looked up sharply.
    “Of course, you know the place, Masterman. You guided me here, after all, when we were hopelessly lost.”
    “I can claim but small knowledge of it, sir. I have merely noticed it in the distance on the few occasions when I’ve been staying at Teignton Manor. There is a fine view of this stretch of the river from the bedchambers situated at the back of the house.”
    “So they put you in a back room, these folk at Teignton Manor—what’s their name?—Ah! yes. Lodge, that’s it. Shabby, b’God, Masterman!”
    A shadow crossed Captain Masterman’s face.
    “My sister and I are of small account in the world, sir, as you must know,” he said, bitterly.
    “Nonsense!” replied the other, hastily. “Miss Masterman’s as handsome as she can stare. And you’re not a bad-looking feller yourself, m’boy! Good family, too!”
    “But no money,” said Masterman, in a harsh tone.
    “What’s that signify?” asked the Colonel,