“I’d have gone and lent him a hand,” added the man, “if it had been anybody but Sir Harry Cripps. But he gave me three months once because a hare was found in my pocket, which had got there quite accidental, so that if he had broke his neck it wouldn’t have broke my heart.” It was the story thus told which Tom had boldly seized upon and appropriated as an experience of his own when before Sir Harry; with what result has been already seen. It had been a serious question with Tom whether, after the escape of Lionel, he should continue to call at Alder Cottage as he had been in the habit of doing previously, or whether he should absent himself entirely till the first ardour of the hue-and-cry was over, and his friend had been safely smuggled away to some more distant hiding-place. After mature consideration, Tom decided that it would be better in every way that he should keep up his visits as usual—as if, in fact, the escape of Lionel Dering were a matter of no moment either to the inmates of Alder Cottage or to himself. To break off his visits might merely serve to breed suspicion where none existed already; besides which it was absolutely necessary that he should see Lionel occasionally, in order that the means might be concocted and agreed upon for his further escape. So Tom came and went as usual, and in no wise altered the mode of his daily life. But, after a time, he became conscious that not only he himself, but the inmates of Alder Cottage, had been placed under police surveillance. Wherever he went his footsteps were dogged—not offensively, but cautiously, respectfully, and at a distance. The cottage, too, was, so to speak, surrounded with spies. This gave Tom some anxiety. It seemed to show that the suspicions of Messrs. Whiffins and Drayton were beginning to concentrate themselves nearer home. And to a certain extent he was right. After slow and painful cogitation, and not till more than three weeks after the escape, Mr. Drayton arrived at the conclusion that it was just possible that Mr. Dering might never have attempted to go abroad at all, or even to get as far as London, but might be snugly hidden somewhere close at hand. And if so—where? The result of this question was the watching by day and night of Alder Cottage, and of the comings and goings of its inmates. A week passed away and Mr. Drayton began to despair. His men had absolutely nothing to report, except that the ladies went out occasionally for a short walk; that Martha Vince, the servant, went out every morning to make the needful domestic purchases; and that Mr. Bristow called every other day and was the only visitor at the cottage.