It was when 'e was after gold down in Cornwall--some old
treasure story--that I came across 'im and 'e was kind to me.... 'E was a
kind-'earted man, Mr. Zanti, and never meant 'arm to a soul. And 'e's very
fond of you, Mr. Peter."
"Yes, I know." Peter was vaguely troubled. "I hope I haven't been unkind
about him. I suppose it was the shock of the whole thing. But it was time I
went anyway. But tell me, Stephen, what you've been doing all these years.
And why you let me be all that time without seeing you--"
"Well, Mr. Peter, I didn't think it would be good for you--I was knowing
lots o' strange people time and again and then you might have been mixed up
with me. I'm safe enough now, I'm thinking, and I'd have been safe enough
all the time the way Cornwall was then and every one sympathising with
me--"
"But what have you been doing all the time?"
"I was in America a bit and there are few things I haven't worked at in my
time--always waiting for 'er to come--and she will come some time--it's
only patience that's wanted."
"Have you ever heard from her?"
"There was a line once--just a line--_she's_ all right." His great body
seemed to glow with confidence.
Peter would like then to have spoken about Clare Rossiter. But no--some
shyness held him--one day he would tell Stephen.
He unpacked his few possessions carefully and then, on a very hard bed,
dreaming of bombs, of Mrs.
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