t will be better than naught. We shall have the
satisfaction of knowing that everything was properly done, at least."

"We will try my Lord Burleigh first," sighed the knight.

"Sir Nicholas might intercede for thee with the Queen," Stanley went
on. "He owes me some service, and is not ungrateful."

"Hush! there is someone coming," interposed the baron. "Let us say no
more at present."

It was the maid bringing in the dinner; and, folding up the paper, Sir
George carefully deposited it within his breast pocket, and relapsed
into a moody silence as they began and continued the meal.

Meanwhile, outside the inn a very different scene was being enacted.

No sooner had Sir Thomas Stanley entered the house than the ostler,
having quickly stabled the horses, emerged into the yard again, and
putting his fingers into his mouth he blew a soft peculiar whistling
note, and reared himself up beside the wall to await the answer.

It was not long in coming, for almost directly the door of the
stable loft above him opened, and the head of the locksmith of Haddon
cautiously peeped out.

"Is all clear?" he inquired.

"Yes, they have both gone in to dine. I didn't know you were there. I
will come up and join you."

In another minute the ostler stood beside the once more disguised
Edmund Wynne, and the two, secure from intrusion, began to converse
with unrestrained freedom.

"Well, are they the right ones?" he asked, as he fastened the
trap-door down.

"Yes," replied Edmund; "what did Sir Thomas say to you; I could hear
him speaking?"

"Who's Sir Thomas?"

"Sir Thomas Stanley, of course."

"Oh! He didn't mention the affair at all."

"H'm! Did he say aught about me?"

"How should I know even if he had?" returned the ostler, "for I don't
know your name yet. He did not mention anybody, only to say how that
the old man, the baron would think well of me when parting time came
if I took good care of his horse."

"Call me James," quickly replied Edmund.

"Very well," returned the other, "it shall be so; but I don't believe
your name is James, nor do I think you are a broken-down wool merchant
either; but so long as you pay me what we have bargained for, I don't
care a straw what you are or what you call yourself."

"Just so, that will do exactly," Edmund promptly replied. "That is
just what I require."

"I'll call you James, then, and if anybody asks about you I don't know
aught of any such person."

"Exactly; yes."