as attracted by the fair Dorothy--who, had
he but known it, regarded him with cleverly concealed contempt--he had
made the acquaintance of Mr Ambrose Rookwood, the elder of the
brothers, and the owner of Coldham Hall. This gentleman, to Aubrey's
taste, was not attractive; but by him he was introduced to Mr Percy,
and later, to Mr Thomas Winter, in whose society the foolish youth took
great pleasure. For Mr Catesby he did not so much care; the fact being
that he was too clever to suit Aubrey's fancy.

Neither had Aubrey any conception of the use which was being made of him
by his new friends. He was very useful; he had just brains enough, and
not too much, to serve their purpose. It delighted Aubrey to air his
familiarity with the Court and nobility, and it was convenient to them
to know some one whom they could pump without his ever suspecting that
he was being pumped. They often required information concerning the
movements and present whereabouts of various eminent persons; and
nothing was easier than to obtain it from Aubrey as they sat and smoked.
A few glasses of Rhenish wine, and a few ounces of tobacco, were well
worth expending for the purpose.

Aubrey's anger with Hans, therefore, was not based on any fear of
discovery, arising from suspicion of his associates. He was only aiming
at independence, combined with a little secret unwillingness to
acknowledge his close connection with Mr Leigh's apprentice. Of the
real end of the road on which he was journeying, he had not the least
idea. Satan held out to him with a smile a fruit pleasant to the eyes
and good for food, saying, "Thou shalt be as a god," and Aubrey liked
the prospect, and accepted the apple.

Having enjoyed himself for about an hour in this manner, and--quite
unconsciously on his part--given some valuable information to his
associates, he bade them good evening, and returned to Lord Oxford's
mansion, in a state of the most delicately-balanced uncertainty whether
to appear or not at the White Bear on the following evening. If only he
could know how much Hans would tell the ladies!

In the room which he had left, he formed for some minutes the subject of
conversation.

"Where picked you up that jewel?" asked Garnet of Winter.

"He lives--or rather his friends do--next door to Tom Rookwood,"
answered Winter.

"A pigeon worth plucking?" was the next question.

"As poor as a church-mouse, but he knows things we need to know, and in
poin