"Open the door," cried the voice again. "D'you hear, Grinsell? At
once!--or I ride to Drayton for the constables."

Grinsell gave Diggle a meaning look.

"Slip out by the back door, Mr. Burke," said the innkeeper. "I'll make a
noise with the bolts so that he cannot hear you."

Burke hastily departed, and Grinsell, after long, loud fumbling with the
bolts, threw open the door and gave admittance to the squire.

"Ah, you are here both," said Sir Willoughby, standing in the middle of
the floor, his riding whip in his hand.

"Now, Mr.--Diggle, I think you call yourself, I'm a man of few words, as
you know. I have to say this, I give you till eight o'clock tomorrow
morning; if you are not gone, bag and baggage, by that time, I will issue
a warrant. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," said Diggle with his enigmatical smile.

"And one word more. Show your face again in these parts and I shall have
you arrested. I have spared you twice for your mother's sake. This is my
last warning.

"Grinsell, you hear that, too?"

"I hear 't," growled the man.

"Remember it, for, mark my words, you'll share his fate."

The squire was gone.

Grinsell scowled with malignant spite; Diggle laughed softly.

"Quanta de spe decidi!" he said, "which in plain English, friend Job,
means that we are dished--utterly, absolutely. I must go on my travels
again. Well, such was my intention; the only difference is, that I go
with an empty purse instead of a full one. Who'd have thought the old dog
would ha' been such an unconscionable time dying!"

"Gout or no gout, he's good for another ten year," growled the innkeeper.

"Well, I'll give him five. And, with the boy out of the way, maybe I'll
come to my own even yet. The young puppy!"

At this moment Diggle's face was by no means pleasant to look upon.

"Fate has always had a grudge against me, Job. In the old days, I bethink
me, 'twas I that was always found out. You had many an escape."

"Till the last. But I've come out of this well." He chuckled. "To think
what a fool blood makes of a man! Squire winna touch me, 'cause of you.
But it must gall him; ay, it must gall him."

"I--list!" said Diggle suddenly. "There are footsteps again. Is it Burke
coming back? The door's open, Job."

The innkeeper went to the door and peered into the dark. A slight figure
came up at that moment--a boy, with a bundle in his hand.

"Is that you, Grinsell? Is Mr. Diggle in?"

"Come in, my friend," said D