Master Simon Stirthesoul; for
you have not a chance of meeting with Brinsmead again before nightfall;
and I will see you afterwards to your lodgings, if you cannot find the
way by yourself."

Jack instinctively gave a hopeless glance round once more for his
friend, and then seeing no signs of him, agreed to accompany Pearson and
the minister. Pearson seemed anxious not to let Jack escape him, for he
took him by the arm, and held it fast while they were working their way
through the crowd. This took some time, for the busy throng seemed in
no way inclined to make room for them. At length, however, they reached
the banks of the Cam, where Master Pearson hailed a wherry and bargained
with the rowers to convey them to Cambridge. By this time the shades of
evening were coming on, and Jack could not help feeling glad that he had
fallen in with Master Pearson, rather than have to find his way by
himself back to Cambridge. Never was the river more alive with boats
passing and repassing, filled with all descriptions of people, from the
magistrate with his chain and cloak of office, his gold-headed mace, and
gaudily dressed officials, to small tradesmen and humble artisans with
their wives and families. Many returning from the fair were shouting
and singing, evidently having paid frequent visits to the vintners'
shops, while the children blew their trumpets and sprung their rattles,
as an accompaniment to the vocal music of their elders.

On disembarking from the wherry, Pearson, instead of entering the town,
led the way to a distant part of the outskirts, stopping at the door of
what appeared to be a small farm-house. A knock with his walking-stick
gained him admittance, when exchanging a few words with the inmates, he
desired his companions also to enter. A decent-looking woman placed a
tankard of ale, with pipes and tobacco, before them, and then, without
making any remark, withdrew to an inner room.

"They are trustworthy," observed Pearson, as he closed the door; "and
now, Master Deane, I will deliver my message. In the first place, you
remember that evening I met you down by the water-meadows. It appears
that in some way or other you have offended your companions on that
evening, and one of them being taken up on suspicion of poaching with
the hope of saving his own carcass a flogging, or the pillory, has
informed against you and me. You will, therefore, find it somewhat
dangerous to revisit your native town f