From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me.
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