argain?"

The fisherman put his tongue to his lips and tested the salty flavour
of the tide, then led the way without comment to the "Bear." The
bargain was so deluged with "best October" that it was almost drowned
in forgetfulness. But, more by luck than judgment, Dan and Rob kissed
one another just after nightfall.

And after supper Dan told the story of his tramp from Bristol. He had
got to the "whipping" incident in Gloucester, and was describing its
effect upon the little, sallow-faced fellow that tramped with him, when
one of Morgan's men burst into the room, his face blanched with terror.
"The man in black! the man in black!" he cried.

Johnnie was on his feet in an instant. "What dost thou mean?" he asked.

"The man in black! the one who did not die!"

Johnnie understood. He took down a sword. "Where is he?"

"He was looking in at the window as I came up the lane."

"Follow me. Stay you there, gentlemen; I'm afeard my man has seen a
ghost."

Blakeney was aroused, but no man had seen anything suspicious, and a
close search revealed nothing. Morgan questioned his man, but he stuck
to his story. An idea flashed across Johnnie's mind, and when he got
home again he questioned Pengelly closely about his companion. The
answers convinced him.

"Thou hast tramped with the devil in disguise," he said.

Dan's ruddy face paled, and he asked for an explanation. His host told
him of the events of the past summer. The sailor's face lengthened
with the story. "And I told him all my plans!" he groaned.

That night Morgan's barns were fired and burned to the ground. The
next night the thatch of Captain Dawe's cottage was discovered to be
smouldering. Two nights later, Dean Tower, which had been confiscated
by the Crown because of Windybank's treason, was reduced to a heap of
ashes.

Brother Basil stole out of Westbury tower the next morning. He had a
bloodstained chip of oak in his hand. It was cut from a beam Windybank
had struck in his fall. "The blood of a martyr!" he muttered.

Chapter XXVI.

ALL ON A BRIGHT MARCH MORNING.

The March winds were blowing, and the daffydowndillies were nodding
merry heads in the sunshine. The hawthorn hedges were dotted with the
bright green of bursting buds; and behind this promise of cover from
the prying eyes of predatory urchins, the small birds were busy
house-building. The tall elms were still bare of leaves, but the rooks
had framed their crazy