Norton, Andre - Novel 08 Read Free

             From the appearance of the stable yard, the
Eagle was all the lieutenant had claimed it to be. The Negro groom who took
charge of his mount satisfied even Fitz's fastidious requirements for the
mare's comfort. And he started into the common room, to be met within the door
by the host himself.
                   "A room, sir? Lord save us, the Eagle is full to its chinking. But if you are minded to share
quarters for the night now—there's the Frigate, a goodly sized room, and only
Captain Crofts within it. He's a gentleman, sir, and like as not he'll welcome
company, being a sociable sort of man."
                   For a moment Fitz hesitated. He seemed
destined today to be haunted by Captain Crofts. But the tantalizing fragrance
of roasting meat put an end to his wavering.
                   "Well, then, if the Captain has no
objection, let us to the Frigate. And, landlord, I am in need of a full meal,
too."
                   "To be sure, sir, to be
sure. The Eagle will supply that, quickly enough. Up the stairs now,
sir, and please to step this way."
                   Fitz was ushered into a room of medium size
where a bed occupied one full corner and a table was pulled up before the fire.
The man who sat in the light of the flames looked up with alert interest as
Fitz entered.
                   "Fitzhugh Lyon, at your
service, sir." Fitz made his manners with only such grace as his
hours in the saddle had left him.
                   The other got to his feet and returned the
salute.
                   "Captain Daniel Crofts
of the Retaliation, at yours, sir.”
                   Each stared frankly at the other. Fitz, in
spite of his prejudices, liked what he saw. To his mind, Daniel Crofts seemed
surprisingly young to be the commander of a fighting ship, for the Captain
surely could not have had the advantage of him by more than three or four
years. But, he reminded himself that boys scarcely into their teens rode
up-country manors as overseers and bailiffs, and that therefore it should not
have been surprising to find young men full captains at sea. In wartime one did
one's duty. His mouth twisted upon that thought as if he had tasted something
sour.
                  But Crofts, though only a little over middle
height and almost too smooth and handsome of face, had a certain air of
competence and authority about him which Fitz recognized and paid tribute to.
His blue coat, turned back with red, fitted him snugly, showing off to
advantage good shoulders and a narrow waist. His own unpowdered hair was
clubbed neatly and its natural fair waves were tight about his head.
                   Fitz, who was the same height as the Captain,
moved with the loose-jointed walk of a horseman. But he did not slouch, in
spite of the fatigue which had put dark smudges beneath his gray eyes—eyes
which for several years now had always been a little tired and set. He had no
pretense to good looks. His thin face with its sternly disciplined mouth was
self-contained, almost too expressionless, and his hair was as thick and black
as an Indian's.
                   "You've ridden far." That was a
statement rather than a question as Fitz came to hold cold-stiffened hands to
the heat of the hearth blaze.
                   "Some distance, sir. I have been on the
road two days." Fitz loosened the throat thongs of his hunting smock. He
wore no stock, and the linen shirt underneath clung to
his damp skin.
                   Crofts shivered in sympathy. "And in beastly weather. The back roads must be mud
sinks!"
                   "Where they are not bottomless
wallows," agreed Fitz heartily.
                   Slightly toasted, he discovered that he now
had energy enough to wash in the basin of tepid water a maid had brought in. As
he wiped his hands on the towel he found