God help me, what else can I believe now that he is fled."

Nicholas sidled up to him with tightened lips. He set two gnarled
fingers on the young man's arm.

"He'm not fled, Master Lionel," he announced with grim impressiveness.
"He'm never a turntail. Sir Oliver he don't fear neither man nor devil,
and if so be him had killed Master Godolphin, he'd never ha' denied it.
Don't ee believe Sir John Killigrew. Sir John ever hated he."

But in all that countryside the servant was the only one to hold this
view. If a doubt had lingered anywhere of Sir Oliver's guilt, that
doubt was now dispelled by this flight of his before the approach of the
expected orders from the Queen.

Later that day came Captain Leigh to Penarrow inquiring for Sir Oliver.

Nicholas brought word of his presence and his inquiry to Master Lionel,
who bade him be admitted.

The thick-set little seaman rolled in on his bowed legs, and leered at
his employer when they were alone.

"He's snug and safe aboard," he announced. "The thing were done as clean
as peeling an apple, and as quiet."

"Why did you ask for him?" quoth Master Lionel.

"Why?" Jasper leered again. "My business was with him. There was some
talk between us of him going a voyage with me. I've heard the gossip
over at Smithick. This will fit in with it." He laid that finger of
his to his nose. "Trust me to help a sound tale along. 'T were a clumsy
business to come here asking for you, sir. Ye'll know now how to account
for my visit."

Lionel paid him the price agreed and dismissed him upon receiving the
assurance that the Swallow would put to sea upon the next tide.

When it became known that Sir Oliver had been in treaty with Master
Leigh for a passage overseas, and that it was but on that account that
Master Leigh had tarried in that haven, even Nicholas began to doubt.

Gradually Lionel recovered his tranquillity as the days flowed on. What
was done was done, and, in any case, being now beyond recall, there was
no profit in repining. He never knew how fortune aided him, as fortune
will sometimes aid a villain. The royal pour-suivants arrived some six
days later, and Master Baine was the recipient of a curt summons to
render himself to London, there to account for his breach of trust
in having refused to perform his sworn duty. Had Sir Andrew Flack but
survived the chill that had carried him off a month ago, Master Justice
Baine would have made short work of the accusation lodge