raders belong, and the Jew
had reason to think that I was acquainted with the design, and
could give the names of those concerned in it. There was really no
plot against Augustus, but it was only intended that a popular
demonstration against his rule should be made. But Soloman wanted
me to give evidence that there was a conspiracy against the king's
life, so that he might gain great credit by exposing it, and might
at the same time rid himself of many of his rivals in the trade."

"He was an artful fox," the leader of the brigands said, when this
had been translated to him. "But where is the Jew he put over you?"

Three or four of the men sprang to their feet and ran out, but the
Jew was nowhere to be seen. The captain was furious, and abused his
men right and left, while his anger was in no way mitigated when
one of them told him that, if he had wanted the Jew kept, he should
have given one of them orders to look after him. This was so
evident that the chief was silenced for a moment.

"How long is it since any of you saw him last?"

"He went round with the wineskin, and filled our cups just as we
sat down to breakfast," one of the men said. "I have not noticed
him since."

Nor had any of the others.

"Then it will be no use to pursue. He has had more than half an
hour's start, and long before this he will have mounted Ben
Soloman's horse, and have ridden off.

"Well, comrade," he said, turning to Charlie, "this settles your
movements. I was but half in earnest before as to your joining us;
but it is clear now that there's nothing else for you to do, for
the present. This fellow will, directly he gets to Warsaw, denounce
you as the murderer of his master. That he is sure to do to avert
suspicion from himself, and, if you were to return there, it would
go hard with you. So, for a time, you must throw in your lot with
us."

When this was translated to Charlie, he saw at once the force of
the argument. He could not have denied that the Jew had fallen in a
hand-to-hand struggle with himself, and, were he to appear in
Warsaw, he might be killed by the co-religionists of Ben Soloman;
or, if he escaped this, might lie in a dungeon for months awaiting
his trial, and perhaps be finally executed. There was nothing for
him now but to rejoin the Swedes, and it would be some time, yet,
before he would be sufficiently recovered to undertake such a
journey.

"I should not mind, if I could send a letter to Allan Ramsay,