lt," says Jack.

I told him of little Rebecca, and asked what he made of it. He said he
made of it that fools didn't love in the right place--which was not to
the point, whatever Jack thought of Rebecca. Linking his arm through
mine, he headed me about.

"Captain Gillam, Ben's father, sails for England at sunrise," vouched
Jack.

"What has that to do with Mistress Hortense?" I returned testily.

"'Tis a swift ship to sail in."

"To sail in, Jack Battle?"--I caught at the hope. "Out with your plan,
man!"

"And be hanged for it," snaps Jack, falling silent.

We were opposite the prison. He pointed to a light behind the bars.

"They are the only prisoners," he said. "They must be in there."

"One could pass a note through those bars with a long pole," I
observed, gazing over the yard wall.

"Or a key," answered Jack.

He paused before Rebecca's house to the left of the prison.

"Ramsay," inquired Jack quizzically, "do you happen to have heard who
has the keys?"

"Rebecca's father is warden."

"And Rebecca's father is from home to-night," says he, facing me
squarely to the lantern above the door.

How did he know that? Then I remembered the voices outside the church.

"Jack--what did Rebecca mean----"

"Not to be hanged," interrupts Jack. "'Tis all along o' having too
much conscience, Ramsay. They must either lie like a Dutchman and be
damned, or tell the truth and be hanged. Now, ship ahoy," says he, "to
the quarterdeck!" and he flung me forcibly up the steps.

Rebecca, herself, red-eyed and reserved, threw wide the door. She
motioned me to a bench seat opposite the fireplace and fastened her
gaze above the mantel till mine followed there too. A bunch of keys
hung from an iron rack.

"What are those, Rebecca?"

"The largest is for the gate," says she with the panic of conscience
running from fire. "The brass one unlocks the great door,
and--and--the--M. Picot's cell unbolts," she stammered.

"May I examine them, Rebecca?"

"I will even draw you a pint of cider," says Rebecca evasively, with
great trepidation, "but come back soon," she called, tripping off to
the wine-cellar door.

Snatching the keys, I was down the steps at a leap.

"The large one for the gate, Jack! The brass one for the big door, and
the cell unbolts!"

"Ease your helm, sonny!" says Jack, catching the bunch from my clasp.
"Fall-back--fall-edge!" he laughed in that awful mockery of the
axeman's block. "Fall-