The playwright had sadly to admit that that was true enough. But his face showed clearly that he could never be the slave of mere worldly wisdom. And Burbage knew it. He might do his best to dissuade his friend from touching this ill-starred affair, yet from the outset he had little hope of success. William Shakespeare’s mind was made up already. “Come what may, Dick, we must help these poor souls to the utmost of our capacity.” “Yes, but how will you do it, my master?” But now that the sympathy of the playwright was fully engaged he was proof against all scepticism. “First I would have you give me the key of the tiring-room,” he said. “For what purpose, you mad fellow?” “An uncivil question breeds an uncivil answer. Whatever the purpose it is nothing to it.” With many misgivings and great reluctance, Burbage gave Shakespeare the key of the tiring-room. CHAPTER XX WHEN Shakespeare returned to the fugitives, they had finished their meal. They were still sitting on the bench by the tavern door. “Mr. Heriot,” said the player, “I have been thinking very deeply upon your pass. First let me say that I have a great desire to help you--and your friend--to help you as far as lies in my capacity.” Gervase thanked him simply. “But in order to do that,” said the player, “I have to ask you to yield yourselves entirely into my care. I would have you do in all things as I desire. It is not that I can promise your deliverance. It may be that your pass is beyond my aid or beyond the aid of any man. But if it is possible for help to be given, that will I do my utmost to render--that is, if you are prepared to trust me to the full.” Gervase knew that it was his life he was giving into the care of this man, but not for an instant did he hesitate. “I trust you to the full,” he said. “And may God requite you for all that you may do.” “Alas, it may be but little. But no failure on my part can make your case more unhappy than it is now. And one matter at least is imperative. You must find a better disguise than your present one. Happily, there is the means at hand. Perhaps you and your friend will come with me to the players’ tiring-room, which is across the inn yard?” Gervase and Anne rose from the bench in order to accompany the actor. As they did so, however, their attention was for a moment diverted. A man, attended by two servants and whose style was that of a gentleman, rode up to the inn door. He dismounted within three yards of where the fugitives stood, and as he was about to enter the tavern, he turned his bold eyes upon them.