Ay, but you should have seen his eyes. Fire seemed to come from them."

"Did he say aught?"

"Nay, but he laughed--or rather he cackled, and then he shook his hand towards Pycroft. Ay but I was frightened."

"Did he see you?"

"Nay, he didn't, and you may be sure I made no noise."

"And the woman--what was she like?" I asked.

"Ay, there you have me again, master, for the woman was young, and I thought fair to look upon."

"Did either say aught?"

"Ay, they talked to each other in words which I could not understand; but presently I heard the woman say they must haste to Bedford, for there was work awaiting them there. But when she had spoken he shook his hand towards Pycroft and laughed such a laugh as I never heard before."

"'What'll you find!' he said in a terrible voice. 'Perhaps a few skulls, but nought else;' and then he started, as I thought, to come where I was, so I just creeped under a withy bush, and hid myself. After that I heard no more. When I dared to creep out again nought was to be seen. He had spirited both himself and the woman away."

After this the man told his story again, but I gathered nothing new. He simply detailed for the willing ears of the others such trifles as were of no importance to me. But he had told me enough to set me thinking.

The man was doubtless old Solomon. But the woman, who was she? I called to mind that on the night when I first went to Pycroft I saw not only Mistress Constance Denman in the room, but another woman. Might not this be the same woman? She must have known Mistress Constance, else they had not been together. Moreover, what might be the significance of her desire to go to Bedford? Was not this the place to which Constance had flown? Was it not natural, therefore, that some understanding existed between them?

When all was quiet in the inn that night, and the visitors had departed, I lay thinking of all that had taken place, and I felt that I must start for Bedford the next day. It was by this means only that I should again find the old man, and I blessed the lucky happening which had led me to the inn, and thus had been enabled to hear the farmer's story. Much as I cudgelled my brains, however, I was unable to get any nearer the solution of the mystery which faced me, neither could I so much as arrive at a suggestion of the truth concerning the link which bound the unknown woman at Pycroft Hall with Mistress Constance Denman. Also I was as much in the dark as to the ties which bound these women to old Solomon. Everything was a mystery, and I knew not how to explain it.

Next morning I was on horseback again. I knew that my way to Bedford lay straight through London, yet did I not deem it wise to go thither. I had not yet accomplished the thing I had set out to do, and I did not feel like going back to the Duke of York to tell what I had seen and heard.

So I determined to bear to the left until I reached the Portsmouth road, and then by riding through the little village of Wandsworth, and crossing Battersea fields, I should miss London altogether. I knew that I could obtain a ferry at Battersea, and then by riding across country I could get to Barnet without so much as being seen by any who dwelt in London town.

Although I was eager to get to Bedford I knew that I incurred great danger by going thither. Doubtless searchers would be abroad to find the man who had liberated the daughter of Master John Leslie from Bedford Gaol, and as not many days had pa.s.sed since the event, the desire to capture me must be still keen. Still nothing could be done without risk.

I did not slacken speed but went straight on.

I wondered much by what means old Solomon could take the woman to Bedford, seeing that his peculiar appearance would attract much attention. But I knew that he was a man of great resource, and possibly he had friends unknown to me.

It took me two days to reach Bedford, even although Black Ben might have covered the distance in less time. The truth was, however, I could not accomplish the journey in one day, and I did not wish to reach Bedford town until after dark on the second day.

I little thought when I had fled from the inn, while a crowd of men were howling after me, that I should so soon draw near the same place, yet as the sun was setting on the second day after I had left the inn where I had heard news of Father Solomon I found myself at the very place where I had met the man called John Bunyan. My plans, however, did not make it a necessity for me to go so straight into danger. Rather it was my purpose to go to Goodlands, and by means of diligent inquiries to find out the things I desired to know. I did not hurry, for the sun had set in a clear sky, and I knew the twilight would last for wellnigh an hour, so Black Ben, catching my humour, walked quietly along, but we had not gone far in this way before I perceived something was afoot. There was the noise of the trampling of many feet in the near distance, while I could hear the excited manner of many voices.

I looked eagerly around me, but the trees and hedges being in full leaf hid wellnigh everything from me. I saw however that I was nearing the place where, on the night of Mistress Constance's escape from prison, we left the main road and turned towards the narrow lane where we had been molested by the constable and his friends.

"They seem to be coming from Goodlands," I said to myself, as I tried to locate the noise of the people, and at this my heart grew cold, for I feared lest something evil had happened to the woman I had tried to befriend.

Forgetting all possible danger to myself, therefore, I urged Black Ben forward, and soon I saw a number of people who as far as I could judge were much wrought upon. That they were not drunken was easy to see, for they walked circ.u.mspectly, and yet many angry cries reached me, as though there were a division of opinion among them. I had barely reached the spot where the lane joined the highway when in spite of myself I gave a cry, for there, right in the midst of a motley crowd, was Mistress Constance, while on either side of her walked a constable with a truncheon in his hand. Never, if I live until I am as old as Methuselah shall I forget the look on her face, for although the sun had now set, leaving only a great golden glow in the western sky, I saw it plainly.

She was very pale, I remember, save for a pink spot that burned on her cheeks, but she shewed no other sign of fear. Her lips were compressed and determined, while her eyes burned with a clear steady light. She stood perfectly straight too, and carried herself proudly, as though she were a May Queen walking amidst the plaudits of the mult.i.tude, instead of being a prisoner. Headgear she had none, but her hair hung in rich profusion around her shoulders and far down her back. Even then I caught the sheen of those curling tresses, which gave her the appearance of a queen of beauty.

She paid not the slightest heed either to those who muttered angry threats against her or those who evidently sympathized with her; her eyes were fixed on the distant skies, as though her thoughts were far away.

"What are they doing with her?" I said to a man standing on the outskirts of the crowd, but I spoke like a man in a dream, for I knew quite well.

"Doing? Why, taking her to gaol again; and I warrant she does not escape again, witch or no witch!"

And now I have to make confession of that which mayhap will draw away from me the sympathy of all good people, for at that moment I, Roland Rashcliffe, realized that I loved this woman more than my own life. I knew of what she had been accused, and she had never denied these accusations. She was said to be guilty of attempting to murder General Monk for seeking to bring back the king, and had been engaged in evil plots against his Majesty. And yet I loved her. But this was not all.

She was the wife of Sir Charles Denman, a man who bore an evil name, and who had been actively interested in the death of the king's father. As such I should never have thought of her save as a murderess who had been married to a bad man. And yet at that moment I forgot everything. Forgot that her hands were stained with blood, forgot that her life was surrounded by mystery, forgot that she owed the allegiance of a wife to a husband, forgot everything, in fact, save that her life was dearer than my own, and that I must seek to save her at all hazards. That my love was hopeless I knew, for she belonged to another; that my determination to save her was madness I also knew, for what could one do among so many? Yet regardless of everything I sprang from my horse, and as if by magic I made a road for myself amidst the crowd till I reached her side.

"Mistress Constance!" I cried.

And then, spite of everything, a great joy came into my heart, for though she spoke no word I saw that as her eyes turned towards me they lit up with a great gladness, and she, as I thought, tried to hold out her hands towards me.

"Mistress Constance!" I repeated, and I forgot the gaping motley crowd which surged around, which I think was at that moment too curious to do anything save to stare at us in wonder. But as I spoke a second time I saw that the joy which shone from her eyes at her first sight of me pa.s.sed away, and in its place came a look of terror.

"Escape! escape!" she said. "You cannot help me, and----"

But before she could finish the sentence a great yell went up from many throats.

"The man at _The Bull_!"

"The man who drugged Master Sturgeon's ale!"

"It is he who got her out of gaol!"

"Ay, we saw him taking her to Goodlands!"

These and a hundred other disjointed cries I heard, and then I was roughly seized by many hands.

"What shall we do with him?"

"Do! Why to gaol with him!"

"This will be sugar and honey to Master Sturgeon."

"Ay, and a feather in our cap when the king hears of it!"

"We'll see now if he'll laugh at us a second time!"

All this I heard as I was dragged along, but I took but little heed. My eyes were fixed on Mistress Constance's face, and I heeded not the angry shouts of those who held me in my delight at being near her.

"Why did you do this?" I heard her say.

"Because I could not help it," I replied.

At this moment I heard a great cry of fear, and turning I saw Black Ben rushing towards me, while the crowd made way for him. He might have judged that I was in danger, for he came up to me, his eyes wild and his head uplifted high in the air.

I thought for a moment that those who held me fast would have let me go as he came up, so fearful were they: nevertheless they did not release me, although they sheltered themselves behind me.

What would have happened I know not, for at that moment the crowd was much excited, but Black Ben, as I thought, seemed to be making for Mistress Constance--whereupon I spoke angrily to him and bade him be still. He obeyed like a child, for so much had we been together at home that he had learnt to take note of the tones of my voice, and to come at my call like a well-trained spaniel.

"What are you going to do with me?" I said to the men who held me fast.

"Do? Take you to gaol, young master."