Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. “I never dreamt!” she said. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview.
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