atter to embrace a wayward fairy as to lay a sooty goblin by the
heels. But thou'lt do both; a knowing imp hath just whispered the news
in mine ears."

The forester's face beamed. "Now Heaven bless thee for a cheerful
companion!" he cried. "By St. George! I'll _do_ both."

And so the twain wandered on.

At Dean Tower, Andrew Windybank passed an uncomfortable afternoon. His
meeting with the dangerous Basil had affected him more than his
rejection by Dorothy. As the day advanced his agitation increased. He
knew of the meeting at Captain Dawe's. No invitation had been extended
to him, and he was aware from this that his loyalty was suspected.
Tidings of the attack upon Raleigh went the round of the household.
Later, towards evening, a fisherman came up from Newnham with salmon,
and he was full of gossip concerning the deliberations of the admiral's
council. The fellow dropped some broad hints that stung the ears of
the Windybank domestics. At supper Master Andrew felt that his
attendants were uneasy and suspicious, and this increased his
agitation. Night and its solitude brought him no relief. The
household betook itself to rest. The master alone remained up and
awake.

The night was gloriously clear, and the moonlit forest was like
fairyland. The windows of the chamber in which Windybank awaited the
stroke of midnight faced towards the river, and the sheen of its broad
waters was plainly visible. He sat without a light, and the silvery
beams from without cast fantastic shadows on the oaken floor and the
dark panelling of the low walls. The carved furniture stood distorted
and grotesque. The woodwork creaked as it cooled from the heat of the
day, and a mouse that scuttled sharply across the floor brought the
watcher to his feet with an exclamation of alarm. His nerves were
strung to respond to every sight and sound. Again and again he
resolved that he would not sit up or have further dealings with the
plotters. Loyalty and manliness and the fear of evil report pulled him
one way; greed, ambition, desire for revenge, terror of Father Jerome
and the thunders of the Church pulled him another. His mind was so
torn with dissension and struggle that at last he gave up all endeavour
to fix a path for himself. He sat blank and apathetic, conscious only
that he was carrying out the order so menacingly given to him by Basil.

Midnight came, and he roused himself and stood up. He listened for
signs of wak