A gruff voice bade him "Come" and, finding the door unbolted, he entered.
"Plague on you!" growled the hunter from under his sheet. "I had thought to sleep till noon to make up for last night's frolic and you wake me at cockcrow. What want you?"
"My letter," said Lachlan briskly. "The letter that you were to deliver to Mistress Jolie Stanwicke in case I came to harm on Falcon's ship."
Almayne jerked his head towards a rough closet built into a corner of the room. Lachlan crossed the floor, found the letter and thrust it beneath his coat.
"That's finished," he said. "Fortunately I'll not need your services as letter-carrier. I can make my report to the lady in person."
Almayne chewed the end of his white moustache.
"You mean?" he asked, "that you will call on Mistress Jolie Stanwicke?"
Lachlan nodded. Almayne, sitting up in bed, seemed to consider.
"That's fair enough," he said presently. "It was you that discovered Barradell's whereabouts. It's only right that you should give her the news. Wait till I've eaten and I'll take you to her."
"Thanks," replied Lachlan dryly, "but I'll not trouble you. Much as I enjoy your company, I prefer to see the lady alone."
He moved towards the door, but paused on the threshold.
"Almayne," he said thoughtfully, "I shall return
