“The floor won’t run away,” said the other, pulling out an old leathern purse, “and you can sleep on any part of it you like.” Flower thanked him effusively. He was listening intently for any sounds outside. If the Tippings and the man in the gig met, they would scour the country-side, and almost certainly pay the cottage a visit. “If you let me go upstairs and lie down for an hour or two,” he said, turning to the old man, “I’ll give you another half-crown.” The old man said nothing, but held out his hand, and after receiving the sum got up slowly, and, opening a door by the fire-place, revealed a few broken stairs, which he slowly ascended, after beckoning his guest to follow. “It’s a small place,” he said, tersely, “but I daresay you’ve often slept in a worse.” Flower made no reply. He was looking from the tiny casement. Through an opening in the trees he saw a couple of figures crossing the field towards the wood. “If anybody asks you whether you have seen me, say no,” he said, rapidly, to the old man. “I’ve got into a bit of a mess, and if you hide me here until it has blown over, I’ll make it worth your while.” “How much?” said the old man. Flower hesitated. “Five pounds for certain,” he said, hastily, “and more if you’re put to much trouble. Run down and stop your wife’s mouth quietly.” “Don’t order me about,” said the old man, slowly; “I ain’t said I’ll do it yet.” “They’re coming now,” said Flower, impatiently; “mind, if they catch me you lose your five pounds.” “All right,” said the other. “I’m doing it for the five pounds, mind, not for you,” added this excellent man. He went grunting and groaning down the narrow stairs, and the skipper, closing the door, went and crouched down by the open casement. A few indistinct words were borne in on the still air, and voices came gradually closer, until footsteps, which had been deadened by the grass, became suddenly audible on the stones outside the cottage. Flower held his breath with anxiety; then he smiled softly and pleasantly as he listened to the terms in which his somewhat difficult host was addressed. “Now, gaffer,” said the man of the gig, roughly. “Wake up, grandpa,” said Dick Tipping; “have you seen a man go by here?—blue serge suit, moustache, face and head knocked about?” “No, I ain’t seen ’im,” was the reply. “What’s he done?” Tipping told him briefly. “We’ll have him,” he said, savagely. “We’ve got a mounted policeman on the job, besides others. If you can catch him it’s worth half a sov. to you.” He went off hurriedly with the other man, and their voices died away in the distance. Flower sat in his place on the floor for some time, and then, seeing from the window that the coast was clear, went downstairs again. The old woman made him up a bed on the floor after supper, although both he and the old man assured her that it was unnecessary, and then, taking the lamp, bade him good-night and went upstairs.