n:

"Nor Poverty nor Riches, but Daily Bread
Under Mine Own Fig Tree."

After the custom of the country, Carterette at once offered him
refreshment, and brought him brandy--good old brandy was always to be
got at the house of Elie Mattingley! As he drank she noticed a peculiar,
uncanny twitching of the fingers and eyelids. The old man's eyes were
continually shifting from place to place. He asked Carterette many
questions. He had known the house years before--did the deep stream
still run beneath it? Was the round hole still in the floor of the back
room, from which water used to be drawn in old days? Carterette replied
that it was M. Detricand's bedroom now, and you could plainly hear the
stream running beneath the house. Did not the noise of the water
worry poor M. Detricand then? And so it still went straight on to the
sea--and, of course, much swifter after such a heavy rain as they had
had the day before.

Carterette took him into every room in the house save her own and
the Chevalier's. In the kitchen and in Detricand's bedroom Olivier
Delagarde's eyes were very busy. He saw that the kitchen opened on
the garden, which had a gate in the rear wall. He also saw that the
lozenge-paned windows swung like doors, and were not securely fastened;
and he tried the trap-door in Detricand's bedroom to see the water
flowing beneath, just as it did when he was young--Yes, there it was
running swiftly away to the sea! Then he babbled all the way to the door
that led into the street; for now he would stay no longer.

When he had gone, Carterette sat wondering why it was that Ranulph's
father should inspire her with such dislike. She knew that at this
moment no man in Jersey was so popular as Olivier Delagarde. The longer
she thought the more puzzled she became. No sooner had she got one
theory than another forced her to move on. In the language of her
people, she did not know on which foot to dance.

As she sat and thought, Detricand entered, loaded with parcels and
bundles. These were mostly gifts for her father and herself; and for
du Champsavoys there was a fine delft shaving-dish, shaped like a
quartermoon to fit the neck. They were distributed, and by the time
supper was over, it was quite dark. Then Detricand said his farewells,
for it was ten o'clock, and he must be away at three, when his boat was
to steal across to Brittany, and land him near to the outposts of the
Royalist army under de la Rochejaq