"Now loose thy fellows," he cried, as he bounded into the forest. The liberated man was long ere he freed his companions; by that time the woodman with the purse in his pocket was deep in the recesses of the forest. The night was falling, yet a long march lay before the three men ere the lights of Lewes would gladden their eyes. Yet, hungry, thirsty, and weary, they reached the county town that night, nor did the Pursuivant seek rest till the first step in his revenge was taken, and he had lodged his report with the authorities in the castle. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IV THAMES PIRATES It was an hour after sunset, and a rich red glow still lingered in the western horizon, tinging the waters of the Thames as they swirled past the water-gate of Surrey House with gleams of scarlet and gold. A young man stood on the brink of the river idly watching the ebb and flow of the tide. For some time he had been strolling to and fro on the velvety lawn of my Lord of Surrey's house at Chelsea, as if awaiting a companion. He was richly dressed, and the fading light glistened on many a jewel which bedecked his Court costume. It lit up the diamond cross of S. Iago of Toledo which he wore upon his breast, and gleamed on the diamonds which decked the pommel of the dress-sword which hung at his side. Queen Mary was holding a Court revel this night at Whitehall in honour of her royal consort, King Philip, who had that day arrived in London from Spain, to the great joy of the Queen, and Don Diego d'Olivares was apparelled for the fête. Don Diego was a typical Hidalgo of purest Castilian blood. His well- formed features, swarthy complexion, dark lustrous eyes, and glossy black locks proclaimed the fact. "My father comes not," he murmured to himself. "If he delay much longer, I shall leave him to follow me to Court in Lord Surrey's company." The light was fading off the river, the stars were becoming bright and lustrous, and the young courtier was growing impatient. Few boats were on the river; now and then a galley or a wherry would dart by, and he noticed that the boatmen were lighting their torches. He bethought him of the beautiful gardens at Whitehall, already gleaming beneath the light of hundreds of cressets. And his thoughts wandered to those whom he expected to meet there: the treasurer of Gray's Inn and his fair niece, Miss Susan Jefferay, the "heavenly twins," as he facetiously termed her two brothers William and Ralph, and many others. For Don Diego was a legal student also—perfecting himself in the knowledge of English law at the Temple, by command of his renowned step- father, the Spanish Ambassador at the Court of Queen Mary. He had met the twins at a masque at Gray's Inn, and a strong friendship had sprung up between the young men. Thus he mused as he watched the passing boats on the silent waterway.