Sattar pulled up a straight chair, but lifted his hand palm up. “It is not my habit, reverend sir. I drink nothing.”
“Nothing but tea.” Giff waved his henchman to be seated. “You shall have some after you report.” He looked across at his uncle. “We won’t raid Aggy’s precious store, sir. Sattar will make it himself. He goes nowhere without his own supply and we are well stocked.”
His uncle stared. “You brought tea?”
Giff grinned. “A crate of the stuff. My father — or rather, my stepfather, but I’ve long thought of him as my father — imports the tea from China.”
“Good heavens above! Favell made his money in tea?”
“Tea is but a side line. His main interest is in the cotton trade. I will tell you all, but let me hear what Sattar has to tell me.”
The rector looked immediately conscious. “Yes, forgive me. I am as anxious as you for good news.”
Sattar shook his head, setting his long hair looping into his lean cheeks. He wore it tied back, lacking his turban, but it must have loosened as he rode. “That I cannot give, for the news I have is bad.”
Giff’s muscles tensed. “Say it!”
“You remember, sahib, it was my design to follow these rogues?”
“When you came to me last, yes. Was it the fellow Sam hanging about here?”
“I know not the man’s name, but I knew him for the same with the evil eye. The other with him was of the village, I think. Him I did not recognise.”
“But you followed Sam? I take it he left here?”
Sattar nodded. “Within a day. He remained one night, watching.”
“The rectory?” His great-uncle’s tone was both sharp and apprehensive.
“It is so, reverend sir. How he knew my master was here, I know not, but this house he watched.”
Impatience gnawed at Giff. “And then?”
“He broke his fast and then rode away. I followed. He met with the other at a village perhaps five miles distant. I could not get close enough to hear them, but together they rode again.”
“Did you find where they live or lodge?”
“No, sahib, for they rode to this place near to the sea. I have learned the name. Weymouth, it is called.”
Ice slid down Giff’s back. “Weymouth? The deuce! Delia is there!”
“That whom you brought here, sahib. It is so.”
His uncle was looking perfectly horrified. “But what could they want with Delia? What should take them there?”
Giff’s mind was already streaking ahead. “The fellow Barney must have followed you, sir. They know I had Delia up before me and that she rode here with me. I see it all, damn their eyes! They are not such fools as I took them for. Sam stayed here to keep an eye on me and sent the other to see where you took her.”
“But, gracious heaven, why, Giffard? How can it possibly serve them to —? Lord above, will they seek to harm her?”
“I think not.” Grimness entered Giff’s tone. “They suppose, and rightly, that I will follow her there.”
“You had that intention?”
Giff bridled. “Did you suppose I should not seek to thank her? She saved my life!”
Sattar’s hand was on his arm. “Sahib, wait! You have not heard all.”
Giff turned his eyes on his henchman, his insides roiling. Whether fear for Delia or anger was uppermost he could not have said. A curse on the rogues! Was it not enough he had put the wench in danger of her life once already?