Then she turned and slowly left the room, followed by the Chevalier, and by the noiseless Dormy Jamais, who had crept in behind them. As Dormy Jamais closed the door, he looked back to where the coffin lay, and in the compassion of fools he repeated Guida's words: "Poor Philip!" he said. Now, during Philip's burial, Dormy Jamais sat upon the roof of the Cohue Royale, as he had done on the day of the Battle of Jersey, looking down on the funeral cortege and the crowd. He watched it all until the ruffle of drums at the grave told that the body was being lowered--four ruffles for an admiral. As the people began to disperse and the church bell ceased tolling, Dormy turned to another bell at his elbow, and set it ringing to call the Royal Court together. Sharp, mirthless, and acrid it rang: Chicane--chicane! Chicane--chicane! Chicane--chicane! IN JERSEY-A YEAR LATER CHAPTER XLVI "What is that for?" asked the child, pointing. Detricand put the watch to the child's ear. "It's to keep time. Listen. Do you hear it-tic- tic, tic-tic?"' The child nodded his head gleefully, and his big eyes blinked with understanding. "Doesn't it ever stop?" he asked. "This watch never stops," replied Detricand. "But there are plenty of watches that do." "I like watches," said the child sententiously. "Would you like this one?" asked Detricand. The child drew in a gurgling breath of pleasure. "I like it. Why doesn't mother have a watch?" The man did not answer the last question. "You like it?" he said again, and he nodded his head towards the little fellow. "H'm, it keeps good time, excellent time it keeps," and he rose to meet the child's mother, who having just entered the room, stood looking at them. It was Guida. She had heard the last words, and she glanced towards the watch curiously. Detricand smiled in greeting, and said to her: "Do you remember it?" He held up the watch. She came forward eagerly. "Is it--is it that indeed, the watch that the dear grandpethe--?" He nodded and smiled. "Yes, it has never once stopped since the moment he gave it me in the Vier-Marchi seven years ago. It has had a charmed existence amid many rough doings and accidents. I was always afraid of losing it, always afraid of an accident to it. It has seemed to me that if I could keep it things would go right with me, and things come out right in the end. Superstition, of course, but I lived a long time in Jersey. I feel more a Jerseyman than a Frenchman sometimes." Although his look seemed to rest but casually on her face, it was evident he was anxious to feel the effect of every word upon her, and he added: "When the Sieur de Mauprat gave me the watch he said, 'May no time be ill spent that it records for you.'" "Perhaps he knows his wish was fulfilled," answered Guida. "You think, then, that I've kept my promise?" "I am sure he would say so," she replied warmly.