On the other hand, however, I was unarmed and practically alone. As far as I knew my companions were two women, and although one of them had effected my escape in a marvelous way, I suspected that if fighting became necessary they would be a hindrance rather than a help. This led me to think who they might be, and to wonder who it was that had impersonated the witch Jezebel Grigg who had been buried in the tower where I had been confined. For, once out in the free open air, all superstitious dread had departed. That it was Uncle Anthony I could no longer believe. True, the veiled figure was quite as tall as Jenkins, my jailer; perhaps taller, but in no way did it remind me of the lonely hermit with whom I had talked so long on the top of Roche Rock, and whom I had left sick and wounded in the ruined chapel in the parish of St. Mawgan. Presently every fibre of my body quivered with a great joy, my blood fairly leaped in my veins, and I could have shouted aloud for joy. My deliverer was the maid Nancy! She had heard of my arrest, had traced me to my prison, and had provided means for my escape. Hitherto I had been the deliverer, I had schemed and fought for her escape from Endellion; now all had changed. She had entered my prison walls and set me at liberty, not for any selfish purposes of her own, but because of the kindness of her heart. The thought was joy unspeakable; at the same time it filled me with shame. She whom I had been willing to betray into the house of Peter Trevisa for a bribe, had dared a thousand things to save me from danger and possible death. A thousand questions flashed into my mind to ask her, but a weight was upon my lips. She rode by my side, still covered with the dark mantle, and still hooded. The other was doubtless her faithful serving-maid, Amelia Lanteglos. True, her face was hidden and she spoke not, but even in the darkness I thought I recognized her strong figure, recognized the easy way she rode, even as hundreds of girls of her class rode in my native county. Meanwhile the horses dashed along freely, the road was good, and nothing impeded our progress. When we came to the junction of roads close by Lewannick, she did not ride straight forward towards Altarnun, but turned to the left through Lewannick village, until we came to four crossways, called Trevadlock Cross. Soon afterwards we reached another church town, North Hill by name, close by which a friend of my father lived, at a house named Trebartha Hall. But we did not stay here, much as I should have liked under ordinary circumstances to have spoken to my father's friend. We crossed the River Lynher, a clear flowing stream which rushes between some fine rugged hills, and then continued on our journey until we reached the parish of Linkenhorne.