sure of the
blacksmith's rough fingers, Sir Marmaduke did not wince. He looked his
avowed enemy boldly in the face, with no small measure of contempt for
the violence displayed.

His own enmity towards those who thwarted him was much more subtle,
silent and cautious. He would never storm and rage, show his enmity
openly and caution his antagonist through an outburst of rage. Adam
Lambert still glaring into his lodger's eye, encountered nothing therein
but irony and indulgent contempt.

Religion forbade him to swear. Yet was he sorely tempted, and we may
presume that he cursed inwardly, for his enemy refused to be drawn into
wordy warfare, and he himself had exhausted his vocabulary of sneering
abuse, even as he had exhausted his breath.

Perhaps in his innermost heart he was ashamed of his outburst. After
all, he had taken this man's money, and had broken bread with him. His
hand dropped to his side, and his head fell forward on his breast even
as with a pleasant laugh the prince carelessly turned away, and with an
affected gesture brushed his silken doublet, there where the
blacksmith's hard grip had marred the smoothness of the delicate fabric.

Had Adam Lambert possessed that subtle sixth sense, which hears and sees
that which goes on in the mind of others, he had perceived a thought in
his lodger's brain cells which might have caused him to still further
regret his avowal of open enmity.

For as the blacksmith finally turned away and walked off through the
park, skirting the boundary wall, Sir Marmaduke looked over his shoulder
at the ungainly figure which was soon lost in the gloom, and muttered a
round oath between his teeth.

"An exceedingly unpleasant person," he vowed within himself, "you will
have to be removed, good master, an you get too troublesome."

CHAPTER XI

SURRENDER

But this interview with the inimical Quaker had more than strengthened
Sir Marmaduke's design to carry his bold scheme more rapidly to its
successful issue.

The game which he had played with grave risks for over three months now
had begun to be dangerous. The mysterious patriot from France could not
afford to see prying enemies at his heels.

Anon when the graceful outline of Lady Sue's figure emerged from out the
surrounding gloom, Sir Marmaduke went forward to meet her, and clasped
her to him in a passionate embrace.

"My gracious lady ... my beautiful Sue ..." he murmured whilst he
covered her hands, her brow,