er: This letter I do write in
much haste to instruct you that I purpose to sail in the 'Faithfull
Friend' along with you and my good cuzen Sir Rupert in this quest for
my father. Moreover I will you should sail as speedily soon as may be.

As regardeth the poore young man afore-mentioned, if he be quite
destitute as I do think him, and will take no money as I do judge most
like, then Master Adam you shall offer to him such employ in my ship
the 'Faithfull Friend' as he will accept.

And this is my wish and command.

JOAN BRANDON.

He is great and tall and fierce with yellow hair and cruell mouth, yet
seemeth more cruell than he trulie is."

"So there you are to a hair, Martin, and here's our enterprise brought
to nought if she sail on this venture!"

"Why then she mustn't sail!" says I.

"'Tis her ship, Martin, and she's a Brandon!"

"Then sail without her."

"And be taken before we're clear o' the Downs and strung up at
Execution Dock for piracy."

"Why then if she goeth aboard I don't!"

"And wherefore not, Martin?"

"I'll take no service with a Brandon!"

"Aye verily there's your pride, Martin, which is cumbersome cargo."

"Call it what you will, I'll not sail."

"And your oath, comrade? Sail along o' me you must and shall! But
having respect for your high-stomached pride you shall stow away in
some hole or corner and she never know you're aboard."

Hereupon I scowled, but perceiving him so serene albeit a little grim,
I said no more and he fell to pacing slowly back and forth, head bowed
and hands locked behind him.

"I need you, Martin," says he at last, "aye, I need you even more than
I thought, the one man I may trust to in a pinch. For, Martin, here's
that I don't understand."

So saying he halted by the table, and presently taking up the dagger
(and with a strange reluctance) fell to twisting it this way and that;
finally he gave a sudden twist and the smiling head of the silver woman
coming away, showed a hollow cavity, running the length of the haft,
roomy and cunningly contrived. Slowly he fitted the head into place
again and, laying the weapon down, shook his head:

"Here's Bartlemy's dagger true enough, Martin," says he, touching its
keen point. "Here's what found Bartlemy's black heart--aye, and many
another! Here's what went hurtling over cliff in Tressady's fist--and
yet here it lies--which is great matter for wonder, Martin. And, since
'tis here--why then--where sis t