The shaggy brows of Cromwell drew down over eyes that shot forth dull fire. He turned completely around, seemed about to speak, but did not. The flame of his glance died out, and he advanced to the table, picked up the pass, examining it critically, back and front. Then he handed it to her, saying slowly,--“If your brother had your brain without your tongue, he would advance faster than he does.” “Am I, then, to go on with this adventure?” “Yes. You will reach Oxford to-morrow. The King will delay, and shuffle, and suspect, until our Scot is in a fine fume of impatience. For three days more I shall be in Northampton. After that for a week I shall be at Broughton Castle, some few miles west of Banbury. If you should be delayed longer in Oxford, I shall let you know where I am by means of De Courcy, who----” “De Courcy!” exclaimed the girl. “Yes; what do you know of him?” “If he is the same man who was in the _entourage_ of the King in London,--a Frenchman of that name,--I know nothing good of him.” “You cannot look for every virtue in the character of a spy, and we who are doing the Lord’s work must use the tools the Lord places in our hands.” “The Lord has naught to do with De Courcy. He is a devil’s man, body and soul.” Cromwell scowled at her. “What mean you by that, hussy?” he asked shortly. “I mean that De Courcy would sell you as readily as he would the King, if there was gold to be made of the bargaining. The Philistines come with money in their hands, and they always find a De Courcy, male or female.” At this Biblical allusion the face of Cromwell cleared like magic, and she had a glimpse of another facet of his character. A certain exaltation which had nothing of hypocrisy in it radiated from his countenance, and his voice rang clear when he spoke. “Aye, my girl, and when there is a Samson of sin to be bound and blinded, the Philistines do right to accomplish the act as best they may. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Perchance this work to which your hand is now set is not done for either God or your country.” “It will be done for my brother’s life.” “Aye, truly; and that is your Philistine’s wage. De Courcey toils not for the life of another, but for gold, and let him that is without sin cast the first stone. I give the wage demanded, and care nothing so that God’s work be done. God’s work is the one thing important, so scorn not De Courcy or any other, but seek his aid in Oxford if it be necessary to communicate with me.” “That shall I never do,” muttered the girl under her breath; and if Cromwell heard he paid no heed. “Have you given thought to your purpose?” he asked. “I have thought of nothing else; it has never been absent from my mind.” “How do you hope to accomplish possession?” “I expect to enact the scriptural part of the ‘thief in the night,’ somewhere between Oxford and Carlisle.”