a mile or
two away. The sun shone now and the light was full, the little bay
seemed to smile at me as I turned my head; but all smiles are short for
a man who has but a guinea in his purse.

"What shall we do?" asked Barbara again. "Is there nobody to whom you
can go, Simon?"

There seemed nobody. Buckingham I dared not trust, he was in Monmouth's
interest; Darrell had called himself my friend, but he was the servant
of Lord Arlington, and my lord the Secretary was not a man to trust. My
messenger would guide my enemies and my charge be put in danger.

"Is there nobody, Simon?" she implored.

There was one, one who would aid me with merry willingness and, had she
means at the moment, with lavish hand. The thought had sprung to my mind
as Barbara spoke. If I could come safely and secretly to a certain house
in a certain alley in the town of Dover, I could have money for the sake
of old acquaintance, and what had once been something more, between her
and me. But would Barbara take largesse from that hand? I am a coward
with women; ignorance is fear's mother and, on my life, I do not know
how they will take this thing or that, with scorn or tears or shame or
what, or again with some surprising turn of softness and (if I may make
bold to say it) a pliability of mind to which few of us men lay claim
and none give honour. But the last mood was not Barbara's, and, as I
looked at her, I dared not tell her where lay my only hope of help in
Dover. I put my wits to work how I could win the aid for her, and keep
the hand a secret. Such deception would sit lightly on my conscience.

"I am thinking," I replied to her, "whether there is anyone, and how I
might reach him, if there is."

"Surely there's someone who would serve you and whom you could trust?"
she urged.

"Would you trust anyone whom I trust?" I asked.

"In truth, yes."

"And would you take the service if I would?"

"Am I so rich that I can choose?" she said piteously.

"I have your promise to it?"

"Yes," she answered with no hesitation, nay, with a readiness that made
me ashamed of my stratagem. Yet, as Barbara said, beggars cannot be
choosers even in their stratagems, and, if need were, I must hold her to
her word.

Now we were at the land and the keel of our boat grated on the shingle.
We disembarked under the shadow of the cliffs at the eastern end of the
bay; all was solitude, save for a little house standing some way back
from the sea, half-way up