r. Henry Lane, at the sign of the Anchor, Thames Street,
London.

The name was a fictitious one--one that Joseph had set down upon the
spur of the moment, his intention being to send a messenger that should
outstrip Sir Crispin, and warn Colonel Pride of his coming.

"It is well," was Crispin's only comment. He, too, was grown calm again
and fully master of himself. He placed the letter carefully within the
breast of his doublet.

"If you have lied to me, if this is but a shift to win your miserable
life, rest assured, Master Ashburn, that you have but put off the day
for a very little while."

It was on Joseph's lips to answer that none of us are immortal, but
he bethought him that the pleasantry might be ill-timed, and bowed in
silence.

Galliard took his hat and cloak from the chair on which he had placed
them upon descending that evening. Then he turned again to Joseph.

"You spoke of money a moment ago," he said, in the tones of one
demanding what is his own the tones of a gentleman speaking to his
steward. "I will take two hundred Caroluses. More I cannot carry in
comfort."

Joseph gasped at the amount. For a second it even entered his mind to
resist the demand. Then he remembered that there was a brace of pistols
in his study; if he could get those he would settle matters there and
then without the aid of Colonel Pride.

"I will fetch the money," said he, betraying his purpose by his
alacrity.

"By your leave, Master Ashburn, I will come with you."

Joseph's eyes flashed him a quick look of baffled hate.

"As you will," said he, with an ill grace.

As they passed out, Crispin turned to Kenneth.

"Remember, sir, you are still in my service. See that you keep good
watch."

Kenneth bent his head without replying. But Master Gregory required
little watching. He lay a helpless, half-swooning heap upon the floor,
which he had smeared with the blood oozing from his wounded shoulder.
Even were he untrussed, there was little to be feared from him.

During the brief while they were alone together, Kenneth did not so much
as attempt to speak to him. He sat himself down upon the nearest chair,
and with his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees he pondered
over the miserable predicament into which Sir Crispin had got him, and
more bitter than ever it had been was his enmity at that moment towards
the knight. That Galliard should be upon the eve of finding his son, and
a sequel to the story he had h