Had Markham been in a mood less desperate, he would not have divulged the share of his young mistress in the prisoner’s escape. But this man had affected to know far more of the matter than, in point of fact, he did know; besides, the falconer did not see how any words or any act of his could make the affair more terrible than it was. His one desire was to overtake the fugitives in order that he might inform his young mistress of her father’s dire peril. This was neither more nor less than the morbid craving of an overburdened conscience. It would not be at his instance even if Gervase Heriot was given up to justice. His wish was merely to make known to the prisoner all that had occurred, and then leave any further action in his hands. By this means the falconer hoped to rid himself of the stain of his master’s blood. As soon as Grisewood had heard the falconer’s story he brought the whole force of his cunning mind to bear upon the matter. “You say, my friend, this traitor and Sir John’s young daughter in a boy’s dress are roaming the country in the guise of gypsies?” “That I do,” said Markham. Grisewood strove to amplify in his mind a picture the falconer’s story had conjured up in it. At last he was able to do this. “By God’s life!” he said, “that was the pair of vagabonds I saw in the company of that accursed play-actor at the tavern door on the morning I came here.” “Why do you call him accursed?” said Markham, remembering with a pang that this player was a man in whom he had already confided. “Why do I call him accursed?” said Grisewood. “All the world knows him for a notorious rogue, as are all men of his sort. And I’ll wager a golden angel he is concealing these fugitives in order to serve some purpose of his own.” “But why should he conceal them,” said the falconer, “when there is a large sum on the head of Mr. Heriot?” “A large sum, eh! The rogue may not know that.” It was more to the purpose, perhaps, that the rogue who spoke had not known it. He grew silent. In this business he must go cautiously indeed. It might be possible for one who lived by his wits to take profit from this strange business. At least, in his own mind, he was reasonably sure of two things. The first was that the fugitives were near at hand, the other that the play-actor was in a position to throw light on their whereabouts. The effect of this conversation was to keep Sir Robert Grisewood very wideawake, and also to implant the seed of distrust in the mind of Markham. It might be, after all, that the player was not so open and honest as he seemed. At any rate, the falconer determined to watch him narrowly. With that end in view he marked all that Shakespeare did. And he soon found more food for his suspicions.