He was thinner and paler, but the laughter still sparkled in his dark eyes, and he was dressed in daintily embroidered doublet, fine hose, and cloak of the newest fashion, a gold chain about his neck and a harp slung from his shoulder. A group of well-dressed servants stood near the church. "I'm well now," said Nicholas rather shyly but happily. "I'm glad you have come back." "I was at my wit's end when I thought of you, lad," went on the other, "for I remembered too late that neither of us knew the other's name, and if I had told mine or asked yours in the hearing of a certain rascal it might have been a sorry time for us both. They made a little mistake, you see,--they took me for a traitor." "How could they?" said Nicholas, surprised and indignant. "Oh, black is white to a scared man's eyes," said his companion light-heartedly. "How have your father's ships prospered?" "There's one of them,"--Nicholas pointed, proudly, across the little space of water, to the _Rose-in-June_ tugging at her anchor. "She's a fine ship," the young man said consideringly, and then, as he saw the parcel Nicholas was taking from his bosom, "Do you mean to say that that has never been opened? What sort of folk are you?" "I never told," said Nicholas, somewhat bewildered. "You said I was not to speak of it." "And there was no name on it, for a certain reason." The young man balanced the parcel in his hand and whistled softly. "You see, I was expecting to meet hereabouts a certain pilgrim who was to take the parcel to Bordeaux,--and beyond. I was--interfered with, as you know, and now it must go by a safe hand to one who will deliver it to this same pilgrim. I should say that your father must know how to choose his captains." "My father is Master Gilbert Gay,"--Nicholas held his head very straight--"and that is Master Garland, the captain of the _Rose-in-June_, coming ashore now." "Oh, I know him. I have had dealings with him before now. How would it be--since without your good help this packet would almost certainly have been lost--to let the worth of it be your venture in the cargo?" "My venture?" Nicholas stammered, the color rising in his cheeks. "My venture?" "It is not worth much in money," the troubadour said with a queer little laugh, "but it is something. Master Garland, I see you have not forgotten me,--Ranulph, called le Provençal. Here is a packet to be delivered to Tomaso the physician of Padua, whom you know. The money within is this young man's share in your cargo, and Tomaso will pay you for your trouble." Master Garland grinned broadly in his big beard. "Surely, sure-ly," he chuckled, and pocketed the parcel as if it had been an apple, but Nicholas noted that he kept his hand on his pouch as he went on to the wharf.