nst my dead comrade's knife, and thus as he sprang I, falling
on my knee, smote up beneath raised arm, heard him roar and saw him go
whirling over and down and splash into the sea--"

"And he had the dagger with him, Adam!" says I in eager question.

"Aye, Martin, which was the end of an ill rogue and an evil thing."

"The end," says I, "the end, Adam? Why then--what o' this?"

So saying I whipped the strange dagger from my wallet and held it
towards him balanced upon my palm. Now, beholding this, Penfeather's
eyes opened suddenly wide, then narrowed to slits as, viewing this
deadly thing, he drew back and back, and so sat huddled in his chair
utterly still, only I heard his breath hiss softly 'twixt clenched
teeth.

"Martin," says he in the same hushed voice, "when a man's dead he's
dead, and the dead can never come back, can they, shipmate?"

But now, as we sat thus, eyeing the evil thing on the table betwixt us,
my answer died on my lips, for there came a sharp, quick rapping of
fingers on the lattice.

CHAPTER XII

TELLETH OF A FIGHT IN THE DARK

Penfeather was at the casement, had whipped open the lattice and,
pinning the intruder by the throat, thrust a pistol into his face all
in a moment; and then I recognised Godby the peddler.

"Let be, Adam!" I cried, springing forward. "Let be, here's a friend!"
Saying nothing, Penfeather thrust away the weapon, and gripping the
little man in both hands, with prodigious strength jerked him bodily in
through the window; which done, he clapped to the lattice and drawing
the curtain stood fronting Godby grim-lipped.

"And now what?" says he softly.

"Lord!" gasped Godby, "Lord love me, but here's a welcome to a pal,
here's the second pistol I've had under my nose this night--throttle me
in a hayband else!"

"What d'ye seek?"

"My pal Martin, 'cording to his word."

"D'ye know this fellow, Martin?"

"Aye!" I nodded and told briefly how and where we had met.

"God-be-here Jenkins am I, master," said Godby, "and well beknown to
Joel Bym as keepeth this house, strangle me else--ask Joel! And if
you're Master Penfeather I've first, this here for ye, and second, a
warning." And speaking, Godby drew a letter from the breast of his
leathern jerkin.

"A warning?" says Penfeather, glancing at the superscription, "Against
whom?"

"A black dog as goes erect on two legs and calls himself Gregory Bragg."

"You mean Lady Brandon's under-bailiff?"

"I do so.