an hour was up, I went away, with a
great weight upon my heart, wondering, yet dreading, what would happen
next.

CHAPTER VII

DREARWATER POND

I will not try to describe my walk back to Temple Hall, or tell of the
terrible sensations that I felt. Think, if you can, of my position. A
young man of thirty, a slave to a deep designing villain, held fast in
his power by some secret nervous or brain forces which he possessed.
More than this, he had designs upon the woman I loved, while I was
powerless, nay, worse than powerless, for he might make me do things
which would be altogether opposed to what I believed right and true.
When you realize this, you will be able to form some idea of how I felt.
And yet I 'was not altogether without hope. I felt that life and love of
liberty were strong in me, and I determined that, though I might be
conquered, it should not be without a struggle.

Arriving at the house, I saw Simon Slowden. He evidently had a message
for me, for, making a sign for me to stop, he quickly came to my side.

"Yer nag is saddled, sur," he said.

I caught his meaning instantly. "Which way did they go, and how long
have they been gone?" I asked.

"They're gone to Drearwater Pond, yer honour. Started 'bout half-an-hour
ago."

"Any message for me?"

"The guv'nor told me, if I saw yer, to tell yer where they'd gone."

"Who went with Mr. Temple?"

"Miss Gray and the other lady, yer honour."

He had led out the horse by this time, and I was preparing to mount it,
when I saw that he had something more to communicate.

"What is it, Simon?" I said.

He did not speak, but winked slyly at me, and then led the horse away
from the stable-yard. As he did so, I saw Kaffar come away from one of
the lads who was employed about the house.

"He's a spy, yer honour, a reg'lar Judas Iscariot. T'other chap's called
Herod, pity this one isn't called Judas. They be a bootiful couple, yer
honour." He looked around again, and then said, "That murderin',
waccinatin' willain is gone efter 'em, Mr. Blake. He came back just
after they'd gone, and went ridin' efter 'em like greased lightnin'."

For a minute I was stunned.

"I thought I'd better tell 'ee, yer honour, and then you'd know 'ow to
act."

I thanked Simon heartily; then, turning my horse's head towards
Drearwater Pond, I galloped away. I had not gone far before I began to
question the wisdom of what I was doing. Was I right in thus openly
defying t