consider I have
had trouble in his matters."

Julian had no alternative but to take the fellow's hint and administer a
bribe, with which Master Clink was so well satisfied, that he exclaimed,
"It went to his heart to take leave of such a kind-natured gentleman,
and that he could have turned the key on him for twenty years with
pleasure. But the best friends must part."

"I am to be removed, then?" said Julian.

"Ay, truly, master, the warrant is come from the Council."

"To convey me to the Tower."

"Whew!" exclaimed the officer of the law--"who the devil told you that?
But since you do know it, there is no harm to say ay. So make yourself
ready to move immediately; and first, hold out your dew-beaters till I
take off the darbies."

"Is that usual?" said Peveril, stretching out his feet as the fellow
directed, while his fetters were unlocked.

"Why, ay, master, these fetters belong to the keeper; they are not
a-going to send them to the Lieutenant, I trow. No, no, the warders
must bring their own gear with them; they get none here, I promise them.
Nevertheless, if your honour hath a fancy to go in fetters, as thinking
it may move compassion of your case----"

"I have no intention to make my case seem worse than it is," said
Julian; whilst at the same time it crossed his mind that his anonymous
correspondent must be well acquainted both with his own personal habits,
since the letter proposed a plan of escape which could only be executed
by a bold swimmer, and with the fashions of prison, since it was
foreseen that he would not be ironed on his passage to the Tower. The
turnkey's next speech made him carry conjecture still farther.

"There is nothing in life I would not do for so brave a guest," said
Clink; "I would nab one of my wife's ribbons for you, if your honour had
the fancy to mount the white flag in your beaver."

"To what good purpose?" said Julian, shortly connecting, as was natural,
the man's proposed civility with the advice given and the signal
prescribed in the letter.

"Nay, to no good purpose I know of," said the turnkey; "only it is the
fashion to seem white and harmless--a sort of token of not-guiltiness,
as I may say, which folks desire to show the world, whether they be
truly guilty or not; but I cannot say that guiltiness or not-guiltiness
argufies much, saving they be words in the verdict."

"Strange," thought Peveril, although the man seemed to speak quite
naturally, and without any