When Gray left the splendid mansion of Learmont, he stood for a few moments in the street, turning round him cautiously to see if he was watched, for his suspicions had been awakened by Learmont, once during this interview, ringing for an attendant, and giving some order outside the door in a very low whisper. Now Jacob was extremely cunning. He refined upon ordinary duplicity, and now, as he stood in the street casting cautious glances up and down its silent extent, he muttered to himself,— “Humph! My way is westward. Now, your ordinary clever fellow would go westward, for fear of being watched; but I—I, Jacob Gray, have got beyond such cunning. Learmont knows well I am a careful man. Should he have set a spy upon me, it will be with the certainty that I will not go directly to my home; and to defeat that I will go—not directly home, but in the direction of home. Ho! Ho! Squire Learmont, you are not yet a match for Jacob Gray!” Continuing muttering to himself, and peeping into every doorway that he passed, Gray then betook himself to the river side, and, ordering a boat, he desired the waterman to take him across the stream. Well did Jacob Gray’s cunning teach him that the difficulty of following a person crossing the river was immeasurably greater than on shore, for, if followed by a boat, concealment of the person pursuing would be nearly out of the question, and to make a palpable detour for the sake of crossing a bridge would most probably ensure the complete escape of the watched party. Jacob Gray did not know that he was watched, but he knew that, had he been Learmont, and Learmont, Gray, he would then have been watched with the keenest of eyes that could be procured for that duty. When the boatman neared the centre of the stream, Jacob Gray desired him to pause upon his oars for a few moments, ostensibly that he, Gray, might admire the bright sunshine on the frosted spires of the various churches, but really to see if any other boat was about leaving the point from which he had started. Nor was he disappointed; for scarcely had the wherry floated idly in the stream for a few brief seconds, when Jacob observed a boat push off, in which were two rowers, and a third muffled in a cloak, and seated very low in the stern of it. The waterman was now upon the point of urging his boat forward again, when Gray said quietly:— “Hold still a moment, my friend. Your time shall be paid for. Surely yon boat is making speed through the water.” The waterman looked in the direction of the wherry with the two rowers, and exclaimed:— “Some one is in haste. Yet, no,—they are pulling but lazily suddenly.” Gray’s small eyes twinkled as he replied:— “I have altered my mind; row easily up the stream.”