Messrs. Cheadle and Jamblin had meanwhile been riding to their hearts’ content, but they did not catch the most distant glance of the man of whom they were in search. No wonder, seeing that they had lost all traces of the fugitive, and had been journeying in an opposite, or very nearly in an opposite direction to the one taken by Peace. They had, therefore, the gratification of riding many miles upon a bootless errand. They returned, vexed and dispirited, to Oakfield House, where they found John Ashbrook in bed, with his sister and the village surgeon in close attendance upon him. The latter had extracted the bullet, and strapped up the head of the sufferer, who was, he said, doing as well as could be expected. Certainly there was no immediate danger. The farmer had an unimpaired constitution, and, although sadly bruised and knocked about, would in all probability soon get the better of his wounds. Peace, when he came to the end of the lane, turned into a road, where stood a small beerhouse, of a primitive character, with a good dry skittle-ground at the back. He knocked several times at the side door of this establishment, but received no answer to his repeated summonses. It was evident that all were asleep within. He called the landlord by name, with no better result. While thus engaged, a man came forward from the opposite side of the road, and said―― “Why, what’s up now, Charley? Want to get in?” Peace turned round in some alarm, but was a little reassured upon finding the speaker was a friend of his. “Hang it! I’m as tired as a dog, and wanted an hour or two’s rest,” said Peace. “Tired! where have you been to?” “Playing the fiddle to a party some miles away from here. They could not accommodate me with a shake-down, so I’ve had to trudge it.” “Come along wi’ me, my lad,” said the good-natured groom. “You shall have an hour or two’s rest in my little crib over the stable.” Peace gladly availed himself of his friend’s offer. A hue and cry would be raised throughout the neighbourhood of the attempted burglary at Oakfield House and the surrounding districts, and Peace, young as he was at this time――he had only just turned twenty――was fully impressed with the necessity of using caution. No one would dream of his being in the groom’s sleeping apartment. The latter informed him that he had to take the carriage up to London, and that he should not return from the metropolis for several days. “But that aint of no kind o’ consequence,” said the groom. “You can sleep away to your heart’s content, only when you do leave mind and lock the door. You can give the key to the stable-boy.” “I’m sure I do not know how to sufficiently thank you, Jim,” observed Peace in his blandest tone and manner. There’s no call for thanks, lad. You’ve done me a good turn afore now, and one good turn deserves another.” Peace was conducted by his companion into the small sleeping chamber.