Slowly in Ralegh's mind a plan of action matured. He knew that in London he had with the King's enmity little hope of life. It remained for him to clear his name of slander; his own life was now of small consequence to him: he was considering how best to leave a fair name and some means of decent living for his family. He saw that time was an essential to him. He must take care not to be hurried to London, hurried before the Council, and hurried to the scaffold before men were properly aware of his presence, and aware of the importance of the event. He must contrive to die greatly, as acquittal was beyond man's power. He knew that he was innocent, he knew that James desired his death, and that innocence was of small account when pitted against a King's wish. He lived long enough not only to see but to experience the bad consequences which he had foreseen of absolute monarchy under a weak King. Civil war fell on England, and the rule of the Puritans before the policy which he had thought out when Elizabeth was an old woman, became established. He brooded long over many things on that sad journey from Plymouth--over the roads which he knew so well. All the country-side was dear to him. He had done with it all now. He passed Sherborne, where he had lived and been happy; he spent the night quite close to Sherborne at the house of his acquaintance Parham. It was a melancholy home-coming. What now remained of his great hopes and his great doings? In the eyes of the world he had failed. But he must open the world's eyes to see his failure in its proper light. At Salisbury, where they arrived the following day, his plan matured. It would not do to come nearer London and his judges unprepared and dreaming of his past life. Something still remained to be done. He must gain time. He must be expected too, that all might be ready to hear what he had to say. His device was brave and was pathetic. He determined to feign illness. Now, at Plymouth he had met a man named Manourie, a Frenchman who was interested in chemistry. In Manourie Ralegh had the faith which a man is inclined to have in a fellow-craftsman on other matters than his craft. His confidence was unwise. Thinking over great matters, he was not sufficiently alert and not sufficiently distrustful. Nor is it certain that Manourie was false from the beginning. It is probable that he came to realize how dangerous a business he had undertaken, and, becoming alarmed, fell an easy prey to Stukeley's promises and suggestions. Within sight of Salisbury Ralegh asked Manourie for a vomit. "It will be good," he said, "to evacuate bad humours. And by its means I shall gain time to work my friends and order my affairs; perhaps even to pacify His Majesty. Otherwise, as soon as ever I come to London, they will have me to the Tower, and cut off my head. I cannot escape it without counterfeiting sickness."