suddenly; a rival ousted him, and his sentence was car-
ried out with as much severity as if he had been a com-
mon criminal. 
“It was to such a man (naturally) that I looked to 
devise a plan for our escape.  But rack my brains as I 
would—my grandmother was a Warwickshire Higginbotham 
—I could devise no means of getting into touch with 
him.  He must, however, have divined my wishes; for, 
one day after he had been about a month upon the is-
land (I had been there seven months myself) he stum-
bled and fell as if struck by the sun at a moment when I 
was close to him.  And as he lay upon the ground he 
managed to pinch my ankle three times.  I caught his 
glance—he hinted rather than gave me the sign of rec-
ognition of the fraternity of Freemasons.  Are you a Ma-
son?” 
“I am Past Provincial Deputy Grand Sword-Bearer of 
this province,” returned Bevan.  “I founded Lodge 
14,883, ‘Boetic’ and Lodge 17,212, ‘Colenso’.  And I am 
Past Grand Haggai in my Provincial Grand Chapter.” 
“I knew it!” exclaimed Duguesclin enthusiastically. 
Bevan began to dislike this conversation exceed-
ingly.  Did this man—this criminal—know who he 
was?  He knew he was a J.P., that his mother was alive, 
and now his Masonic dignities.  He distrusted this 
Frenchman more and more.  Was the story but a pretext 
for the demand of a loan?  The stranger looked prosper-
ous and had a first class ticket.  More likely a black-
mailer; perhaps he knew of other things—say that affair 
at Oxford—or the incident of the Edgware Road—or the 
matter of Esme Holland.  He determined to be more 
than ever on his guard. 
“You will understand with what joy,” continued 
Duguesclin, innocent or careless of the sinister thoughts 
which occupied his companion, “I received and an-
swered this unmistakable token of friendship.  That day 
no further opportunity of intercourse occurred, but I nar-
rowly watched him on the morrow, and saw that he was