Bathurst discreetly left brother and sister alone. He knew nothing of their affairs, of their plans, their hopes. Stich was too loyal to speak of his lord, even to a man whom he trusted and respected as he did the Captain. The latter knew that a hunted man was in hiding in the smith’s forge, he had taken a message from the man to the lady at Stretton Hall, now he knew for certain that the fugitive was the Earl of Stretton. But that was all. Being outside the pale of the law himself, his sympathies at once ranged themselves on the side of the fugitive. Whether the latter were guilty or innocent mattered little to Jack Bathurst; what did matter to him was that the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on was unhappy and in tears. Philip, seeing that he could talk to his sister unobserved, whispered eagerly,— "The letters, dear, have a care; how will you carry them?" "In the drawer underneath the seat of the coach," she whispered in reply. "I’ll not leave the coach day or night until I’ve reached London. From Wirksworth onwards I’ll be travelling with relays: I need neither spare horses nor waste a moment’s time. I can be in town in less than six days." "When will your coach be ready?" "In a few minutes now, and I’ll start at once: but go, go now, dear," she urged tenderly, "since Captain Bathurst thinks it better that you should." She kissed him again and again, her heart full of hope and excitement at thought of what she could do for him, yet aching because of this parting. It was terrible to leave him in this awful peril, to be far away if danger once again became imminent! When at last he had torn himself away from her, he made quickly for the door, where Bathurst had been waiting for him. "Ah, sir!" sighed Philip, bitterly, "’tis a sorry plight for a soldier and a gentleman to hide for his life like a coward and a thief." But Bathurst before leaving was looking back at the beautiful picture of Patience’s sweet face bathed in tears. "Like a thief?" he murmured. "Nay, sir, thieves have no angels to guard and love them: methinks you have no cause to complain of your fate." There was perhaps just a thought of bitterness in his voice as he said this, and Patience turned to him, and gazed at him in tender womanly pity through her tears. At once the electrical, sunny nature within him again gained the upper hand. Laughter and gaiety seemed with him to be always close to the surface, ready to ripple out at any moment, and calling forth hope and confidence in those around.