leep," answered Arden, who was keen of sight.

"I took it not!" cried out the half-risen form from its pallet in the
corner of the hut. "He thought I drank it, but when his head was turned
I threw it away. Master Arden! Master Arden! come over to me!"

Arden raised, embraced, supported the figure that, quivering with
weakness and excitement, might also feel the heaving breast, the
quickened heart-beats, of the man who held him. Nevil, in whom deep
emotion was not apt to show itself, knelt beside the pallet, and taking
the thin hands, caressed them like a very woman.

"Lad, lad," he whispered, "where is thy master? Is he dead? Or did he
leave thee here but now to search for simples?"

Robin-a-dale looked from one to the other, great eyes shining in a
thin, brown face. "Three years," he said,--"three years since we crept
away from Ferne House in a ship that was called--that was called--that
was called the _Sea Wraith._ But no trumpets sounded, and there was no
throng to shout farewell. Why was that? But I remember it was three
years ago." He laughed weakly. "I'm a man grown, Master Arden, but
here's still the rose noble which you gave me once.... No; I must have
lost it in the woods." He nodded sagely. "I remember; I lost it where
the river came over the great rock with a noise that made me think of a
little, sliding stream at home. It was Yuletide, but the flowers smelled
too sweet, and the great apes and the little monkeys sat in the red
trees and mocked me."

"He wanders again," said Powell, with vexation. "The friar can bring him
back with voice or touch, but not I!"

"Where is the _Sea Wraith_, Robin-a-dale? Answer me!" Nevil's voice
rose, cold and commanding, questioning this as any other derelict haled
before him.

[Illustration: "'LAD, LAD,' HE WHISPERED, 'WHERE IS THY MASTER?'"]

Instinctively Robin brought his wits somewhat together. "The _Sea
Wraith_," he echoed. "Why, that was long ago ... Sixscore men, we left
her hidden between the islet and the land until we should return.... Her
mariners were willing to be left--ay, and when I'm a knight I'll
maintain it!--their blood is not upon his hands.... But when six men
from that sixscore came again to the coast there was no ship,--so I
think that she sank some night, or maybe the Spaniards took her, or
maybe she grew tired and sailed away,--we were so long in winning back
from Panama."

There was a deep exclamation from his listeners. "From Panama!"

Ro