e family
being extinct, Castle Marleigh passed to you?"

"He married our cousin," Gregory amended. "They were an ill-fated
family."

"Ill-fated, indeed, an all accounts be true," returned Crispin in a
maudlin voice. "Poor Roland! Well, for old time's sake, I'll sleep in
the King's chamber, Master Ashburn."

"You shall sleep where you list, sir," answered Gregory, and they rose.

"Do you look to honour us long at Castle Marleigh, Sir Crispin?" was
Gregory's last question before separating from his guest.

"Nay, sir, 'tis likely I shall go hence to-morrow," answered Crispin,
unmindful of what he said.

"I trust not," said Gregory, in accents of relief that belied him. "A
friend of Roland Marleigh's must ever be welcome in the house that was
Roland Marleigh's."

"The house that was Roland Marleigh's," Crispin muttered. "Heigho!
Life is precarious as the fall of a die at best an ephemeral business.
To-night you say the house that was Roland Marleigh's; presently men
will be saying the house that the Ashburns lived--aye, and died--in.
Give you good night, Master Ashburn."

He staggered off, and stumbled up the broad staircase at the head
of which a servant now awaited, taper in hand, to conduct him to the
chamber he demanded.

Gregory followed him with a dull, frightened eye. Galliard's halting,
thickly uttered words had sounded like a prophecy in his ears.

CHAPTER XIII. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF KENNETH

When the morrow came, however, Sir Crispin showed no signs of carrying
out his proposal of the night before, and departing from Castle
Marleigh. Nor, indeed, did he so much as touch upon the subject, bearing
himself rather as one whose sojourn there was to be indefinite.

Gregory offered no comment upon this; through what he had done for
Kenneth they were under a debt to Galliard, and whilst he was a fugitive
from the Parliament's justice it would ill become Gregory to hasten his
departure. Moreover, Gregory recalled little or nothing of the words
that had passed between them in their cups, save a vague memory that
Crispin had said that he had once known Roland Marleigh.

Kenneth was content that Galliard should lie idle, and not call upon him
to go forth again to lend him the aid he had pledged himself to render
when Crispin should demand it. He marvelled, as the days wore on, that
Galliard should appear to have forgotten that task of his, and that he
should make no shift to set about it. For the rest,