The secretary handed the man the bag of money, and watched him secrete it in his belt. Then he laid his hand on the farmer’s arm, and eyeing him steadily with those piercing blue eyes, addressed him in a slow impressive tone. "And now, Master Peters, there remains but one thing to say to you; a warning. You will remember that this matter is an affair of state, and he who has had aught to do with such affairs does well to keep his eyes blinded, his ears deaf, and above all, his tongue dumb. If by word of yours, spoken be it in anger, in boasting, or in drink—if ever, I say, word of this matter escape you, you will——" "I’m paid to be quiet; I’m not a man to babble i’ other folk’s affairs," interrupted the farmer in an aggrieved tone. "I knew it, otherwise you had not been chosen for the work. Nevertheless, bear my words in mind. The man I serve is all-powerful. He can reward generously, but he never forgets an injury, and he never forgives a foe. Good-night, Master Peters, and remember to bear yourself discreetly." The secretary let the man out through the door leading into the alley. He returned to the room muttering to himself. "I doubt the fellow must be disposed of, he knows too much," he said slowly. Then he picked up the letter from the table, and stood for some minutes gazing at it abstractedly, lost in thought. "Fool! Fool!" he muttered at last. "Madman, to put himself in the power of such a man. Of a surety it must work his ruin in the end. And all to no purpose, since the papers are still lost. And yet, what is’t to me? For an he rise, I shall rise with him, and if he fall—his carcase must serve as a stepping-stone, whereby I may rise alone." Thoughtfully he folded the letter, and placed it in his pouch, then turned again from the room. They heard him go slowly down the passage, a door closed, and all was still once more. The fugitives emerged cautiously from their hiding-place. "Ferguson! Ferguson!" muttered Captain Protheroe to himself, as he wrapped his cloak round his companion’s shoulders. "Ferguson and Jeffreys! for assuredly ’twas Jeffreys of whom he spoke. Now, what the devil—— But come, Mistress Barbara, we’ll away from here, and leave them to brew what plots they will." Barbara pulled the cloak closely round her, and followed him silently out of the house. He walked quickly down the alley, and turned into the silent street behind the inn. The moon was down, and save for the occasional glimmer of a lamp, the streets were in darkness. "Where are we going?" asked Barbara, wonderingly. He shrugged his shoulders. "We must get clear of the town, first. You will not go to your cousin?" he asked doubtfully. "No, indeed! I would not risk danger to Cicely. And besides I know not where lies the house." "Then we throw in our lots together?" he asked, smiling down on her. "Indeed, sir, I see not what else remains for me," she answered simply, committing herself to his protection with an implicit faith.