ty lapse into the flow of the old chroniclers. For
whatever Harry had forgotten in his many experiences since he last threw
his leg over Spitfire, horsemanship was not one of them. He still rode
like a Cherokee and still sat his mount like a prince.

He had had an anxious and busy morning. With the first streak of dawn he
had written a long letter to his Uncle George, in which he told him of
his arrival; of his heart-felt sorrow at what Pawson had imparted and of
his leaving immediately, first for Wesley and then Craddock, as soon as
he found out how the land lay at Moorlands. This epistle he was careful
to enclose in another envelope, which he directed to Justice Coston,
with instructions to forward it with "the least possible delay" to Mr.
Temple, who was doubtless at Craddock, "and who was imperatively needed
at home in connection with some matters which required his immediate
personal attention," and which enclosure, it is just as well to state,
the honorable justice placed inside the mantel clock, that being the
safest place for such precious missives, at least until the right owner
should appear.

This duly mailed, he had returned to the Sailors' House, knocked at the
door of the upstairs room in which, through his generosity, the street
vendor lay sleeping, and after waking him up and becoming assured that
the man was in real distress, had bought at twice their value the China
silks which had caused the disheartened pedler so many weary hours of
tramping. These he had tucked under his arm and carried away.

The act was not alone due to his charitable instincts. A much more
selfish motive influenced him. Indeed the thought came to him in a way
that had determined him to attend to his mail at early dawn and return
at sunrise lest the owner should disappear and take the bundle with him.
The silks were the very things he needed to help him solve one of his
greatest difficulties. He would try, as the sailor-pedler had done, to
sell them in the neighborhood of Moorlands--(a common practice in those
days)--and in this way might gather up the information of which he was
in search. Pawson had not known him--perhaps the others would not: he
might even offer the silks to his father without being detected.

With this plan clearly defined in his mind, he had walked into a livery
stable near the market, but a short distance from his lodgings, with the
silks in a bundle and after looking the stock over had picked out this
un