For a moment I could scarce refrain from throwing myself upon him; but reflecting that little would be gained thus, and that much might be obtained by strategy, I refrained, and, shrugging my shoulders indifferently, I turned from him and walked to the farther part of the room. I saw him no more that day, but on the day following he again entered my apartment or cell--call it which you will. Though feigning to avoid conversation with him, I found that his moody fit had passed, and that he was willing to talk. Little by little I gathered his history, which, though mostly lies, gave me an insight into his movements and plans. He had, he said, fled the country at the Restoration for political reasons, a price having been set upon his head. (I smiled grimly at this, knowing only too well why his head was thus valued.) He had served as a soldier of fortune on the Rhine and in the Low Countries, finally joining the army of the States of Holland and rising to his present rank; though, in justice to the Dutch be it said, he was never allowed to take up arms against his own countrymen. I had heard enough for once, and for the time being I resolved not to mention the matter either to Drake or to Felgate. Of what was taking place betwixt England and Holland we learned little. Occasionally we had a visit from the governor of the fortress, a Major Van der Wycke, a courteous and honest soldier, who carefully refrained from hurting our susceptibilities with reference to the war, though he told us of the great fire that practically destroyed the best part of London. This we were told on Christmas Day, over three months after its occurrence. Very slowly the days passed. Winter gave place to spring, yet no sign of our being released was given us, neither did any loophole of escape present itself. One day Joyce came into my room with the news that he was leaving the service of the States of Holland, and had a good offer for his sword from the King of France. He seemed very elated, and now was the time to obtain what information I could. "Thou art a Yorkshireman, perchance?" I enquired offhandedly, interrupting him in the midst of a rambling statement. "I a Yorkshireman? Never, young sir!" "Then from Lincolnshire, doubtless?" "Nor from Lincolnshire. Why didst think so?" "From thy manner of speech, Sergeant," I replied, forcing a laugh. "It savours much of the north." "I have travelled much, and know both those counties well." "Then perchance Midgley is known to you, Sergeant?" "I cannot recall the name. Where is it?" "It is my native village," I asserted, with a slight deviation from the truth. "It lies betwixt Pontefract and Holwick." At the mention of Holwick he started, yet, retaining command over his feelings, he remarked: "I know it not. But, beshrew me! the name of Holwick reminds me---- Dost know Holwick well?"