"They are gone, my good friend," said Smeaton, at length, still speaking in a whisper, lest any lingerer should be remaining behind. "They are gone; but we must still be very cautious, if we would escape danger. In Fortune's name, what brought you over here, Van Noost? If I had not seen you in the morning and recognized your voice to-night, you would still have been in the hands of the Philistines, my good friend." "Thanks, great Samson, thanks!" cried Van Noost. "The very next figure that I cast--if I live to cast any more--shall be the Hebrew giant, with his friend's jawbone in his hand. I beg your Lordship's pardon for joking; but it is an evil habit of mine from times of old; and I shall jest at my last gasp. You asked me why I came here. Odds life, I do not know where I am; but, if you mean, what brought me towards Ale Manor, all I can tell you is, that it was zeal--zeal, which, like a bad huntsman, is always overrunning the good dog, Discretion." "Hush!" said Smeaton. "Do not speak so loud. But tell me in a whisper what road your zeal ran this time." "Good faith," replied Van Noost, "it was in the road of your service, as I thought; but the truth is this; ever since you left me in the morning, till towards the close of day, I have been helping the good old sexton, Mattocks, to clean the monuments in the church, breaking hard jests upon each other's jests, all the time. I borrowed a blacksmith's apron, twisted myself up a paper cap, and stripped off my coat to keep it clean. Your Lordship would not have known me, I looked so much like a journeyman. Just, however, as we were leaving off our work, what should I see, to my horror and consternation, but a troop of horse coming down the hill. There was no time to get my pony, or wash my hands and face, and escape. You know that side of the hill. It is as bare and as round as a baby's cheek. So there was nothing for it but to go down to the little ale-house, keep on the garb I had, which was disguise enough, and persuade the good people to pass me off for a tapster. Well, the soldiers came down, swept all the oats of the hamlet for their horses, called for ale in the true dragoon style, and sat down to boose round the door, while their captain and a certain Justice who was with them demanded punch, in a magisterial tone. Didn't I make the punch strong for them! I paid for an additional bottle of rum out of my own pocket to fuddle their worships; and, if I had dared, I would have treated the whole regiment. A minute after, however, in came Sir John Newark; and he called for punch too. Sharp words enough passed between him and the others; and suddenly, as I brought him in his bowl, I found out from what was said that it was your Lordship these people were going after, and not your poor humble servant. I argued the matter with myself for a minute. Zeal said, 'Go and warn the noble Lord.' Discretion said, 'Take care you don't get caught yourself, Van Noost.' 'A fico for Discretion,' cried Zeal.