But speak I must at last, though I chose that it
should be to Geoffrey my brother. 'Our mother lies murdered yonder on
the Vineyard Hill. A Spanish man has done the deed, Juan de Garcia by
name.' When my father heard these words his face became livid as though
with pain of the heart, his jaw fell and a low moan issued from his open
mouth. Presently he rested his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and
lifting his ghastly face he said:
'Where is this Spaniard? Have you killed him?'
'No, father. He chanced upon me in Grubswell, and when he learned my
name he would have murdered me. But I played quarter staff with him and
beat him to a pulp, taking his sword.'
'Ay, and then?'
'And then I let him go, knowing nothing of the deed he had already
wrought upon our mother. Afterwards I will tell you all.'
'You let him go, son! You let Juan de Garcia go! Then, Thomas, may the
curse of God rest upon you till you find him and finish that which you
began to-day.'
'Spare to curse me, father, who am accursed by my own conscience. Turn
your horses rather and ride for Yarmouth, for there his ship lies and
thither he has gone with two hours' start. Perhaps you may still trap
him before he sets sail.'
Without another word my father and brother wheeled their horses round
and departed at full gallop into the gloom of the gathering night.
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