ike were the villains,
then? Jaisuits, I'll warrant? Foxes from St. Omer's airth?"

"They were two common cutthroats whose names I know."

"Tools, belike. Fingers of the Paape's hand.... Ye seem to have a good
acquaintance among rogues, Mr. Whaat's-you-name."

The man Prance had disappeared, and Lovel suddenly saw his prospects
less bright. The murderers were being given a chance to escape, and to
his surprise he found himself in a fret to get after them. Oates had
clearly no desire for their capture, and the reason flashed on his mind.
The murder had come most opportunely for him, and he sought to lay it
at Jesuit doors. It would ill suit his plans if only two common rascals
were to swing for it. Far better let it remain a mystery open to awful
guesses. Omne ignotum pro horrifico.... Lovel's temper was getting the
better of his prudence, and the sight of this monstrous baboon with his
mincing speech stirred in him a strange abhorrence.

"I can bear witness that the men who did the deed were no more Jesuits
than you. One is just out of Newgate, and the other is a blackguard Scot
late dismissed the Duke of Buckingham's service."

"Ye lie," and Oates' rasping voice was close to his ear. "'Tis an
incraidible tale. Will ye outface me, who alone discovered the Plaat,
and dispute with me on high poalicy?... Now I come to look at it, ye
have a true Jaisuit face. I maind of ye at St. Omer. I judge ye an
accoamplice..."

At that moment Prance returned and with him another, a man in a dark
peruke, wearing a long coat with a cape. Lovel's breath went from him as
he recognised Bedloe.

"There is the murderer," he cried in a sudden fury "I saw him handle the
body. I charge you to hold him."

Bedloe halted and looked at Oates, who nodded. Then he strode up to
Lovel and took him by the throat.

"Withdraw your words, you dog," he said, "or I will cut your throat. I
have but this moment landed at the river stairs and heard of this horrid
business. If you say you have ever seen me before you lie most foully.
Quick, you ferret. Will Bedloe suffers no man to charge his honour."

The strong hands on his neck, the fierce eyes of the bravo, brought back
Lovel's fear and with it his prudence. He saw very plainly the game,
and he realised that he must assent to it. His contrition was deep and
voluble.

"I withdraw," he stammered, "and humbly crave pardon. I have never seen
this honest gentleman before."

"But ye saw this foul mur