n his veins.
He tried hard to keep his faculties clear, and to speak nothing
which could injure the prince.

"We parted company. I know not where he is," he answered slowly. "I
told him to go his own way; I would not be a source of peril to
him. I bid him adieu and sent him away."

It suddenly occurred to Paul that if, even for an hour, he could
personate the prince, and so draw off pursuit from him, his point
might be gained. He had not forgotten the episode of the first
adventure they had shared as children; and as we all know, history
repeats itself in more ways than one.

The man who appeared the leader of the band, and whose face was not
unkindly, doffed his hat respectfully at these words, and said, "It
is true, then, that I am addressing the Prince of Wales?"

Paul said nothing, but bent his head as if in assent, and the man
continued speaking, still respectfully.

"It is my duty then, sire, to take your sacred person under my
protection. You are in peril from many sources in these lone woods,
and I have been sent out on purpose to bring you into a place of
safety. My followers will provide you with a good horse, and you
will soon be in safe shelter, where you can obtain the food and
rest your condition requires, and you will receive nothing but
courteous treatment at our hands."

To resist were fruitless indeed. Politely as the invitation was
tendered, there was an undertone of authority in the man's voice
which convinced Paul that any attempt at resistance would be met by
an appeal to force. And he had no disposition to resist. The longer
the fiction was kept up, the longer there would be for the prince
to seek safe asylum at the Priory. When once those sanctuary doors
had closed behind Edward, Paul thought it mattered little what
became of himself.

"I will go with you," he answered with simple dignity; "I presume
that I have indeed no choice."

A draught from a flask tendered him by one of the men did much to
revive Paul, and the relief at finding himself well mounted,
instead of plodding wearily along on foot, was very great. He was
glad enough to be mounted behind one of the stout troopers, for he
was excessively drowsy, despite the peril of his situation. He had
been unable to sleep, as Edward had done, in the woodman's hut, and
it was now more than thirty-six hours since sleep had visited him,
and those hours had been crowded with excitement, peril, and
fatigue. The potent liquor he had just d