ve tried
to restrain them myself"--(here he gulped in his throat: lying was not
very easy to this man, I think)--"and I have failed. Well, sir, I must
trust you more than I have ever trusted you before."

Again he stopped.

Then all came out with a rush.

"Not half a mile from here," said he, "along the Newmarket road there be
twenty men, with blunderbusses and other arms, waiting for His Majesty
and the Duke, who will come to-morrow."

"But how do you know?" cried I--all bewildered for the instant.

His head shook with passion.

"Listen," said he. "We have had certain information that they come this
way--Why, do you think we have not--" (again he broke off; but I knew
well enough what he would have said!) "I tell you we know it. The King
is not lying at Royston, to-night. He comes by this road to-morrow. Now
then, sir--what do you say to that?"

My mind was still all in a whirl. I had looked for sudden danger, but
not so sudden as this. Half a dozen questions flashed before me. I put
the first into words:

"Why have you told me?" I cried.

His face contracted suddenly. (It was growing very dark by now, and we
had no candles. The muscles of his face stood out like cords.)

"Not so loud!" said he; and then: "Well, are you not one of us? You are
pledged very deeply, sir; I tell you."

Then came the blessed relief. For the first moment, so genuine appeared
his passion, I had believed him; and that the ambushment was there, as
he had said. Then, like a train of gunpowder, light ran along my mind
and I understood that it was the same game still that they were playing
with me; that there was no ambushment ready; that they had indeed fixed
upon this journey of the King's; but that they were unprepared and
desired delay. His anxiety about my servant; his evident displeasure and
impatience; his sending for me at all when he must have known over and
over again that I was not of his party--each detail fitted in like a
puzzle. And yet I must not shew a sign of it!

I hid my face in my hands for a moment, to think what I could answer.
Then I looked up.

"Mr. Rumbald," said I, "you are right. I am too deeply pledged. Tell me
what I am to do. It is sink or swim with me now."

He believed, of course, that I was lying; and so I was, but not as he
thought. He believed that he had gained his point; and the relief of
that thought melted him. He believed, that is, that I should presently
make an excuse to get hold of my se