But he was slightly mollified by observing on Job's face, as on that of all the others, a peculiar look of dissatisfaction and discontent.
Job eyed him and Stumpy with suspicious glances, and nodding to the others, took his old seat, calling as he did so for some ale.
Presently Job rose to light his pipe, and instead of reseating himself in his old place dropped into a chair near Leicester.
"Come far, sir?" he said, opening up a conversation.
Leicester raised his eyebrows and shook his head, waving his hand toward Stumpy, who interpreted the sentence, and replied, in broken English:
Then he commenced to talk of fine houses and big fees, and somehow drew from Job the story of the murder of Starling and the fact that most of the people concerned in the tragedy had gone away.
"It is very strange," he said, "very! A murder is not what you would call common in England? What did you do with ze Mastro Leicester; hang him up by ze neck?"
"No," said the man, shaking his head. "He died without that. He fell over the cliff with the chap he'd done for, and so the country was saved the trouble of that."
Leicester sat like a man in a dream, but gave no outward sign that the story had affected him.
Stumpy, thinking that he had pumped quite enough for the present requested Polly to bring cigars for himself and his master, and leaned back with an air of enjoyment.
After a few words with Leicester, who was known as Signor Edgardo, Stumpy asked if they could have a bed.
"Here, Will," said the talkative fisherman, shaking Willie Sanderson, who had been asleep. "Can't you let this gentleman and his man have a couple of beds?"
"I dare say," he said, staring about him.
Then the signor rose, bowed all round, and took his leave, followed by Stumpy, with Willie Sanderson to lead the way.
Slowly they tramped down to the Sandersons' cottage.
Willie opened the door and beckoned to the visitors to enter.
As they entered the small sanded room a lad rose from a chair and hobbled forward on a crutch.
He was a frail boy with a pale, intellectual, and mournful face.
"Jamie, these gentlemen want a bed; show 'em upstairs to the best room."
The lad took the candle and hobbled up the stairs.
At the stairhead he stopped and looked hard at Leicester, who turned his face slightly and adjusted his spectacles.