There was nothing more to be got out of the Crow. Invited to give a personal description of Mr. Scrotton, he fell back on his moral character as 'a very honest man.' He might be, or, again, he might be a spy. In any case, here was the ballad, and there was the furious woman ready for any revenge. 'Go home; go to bed! Tyrell and I will walk with you to your rooms,' said Mr. Wogan, who, stepping to the letter-rack, picked up an epistle for Mr. Hilton. The handwriting of the superscription made him look so blank that the others noticed his face and were silent. The letter was in Lady Oxford's hand. He put it in his pocket. They led the Crow to his door in Germain Street. He behaved pretty well on the whole, only insisting that his fortune would be made if Wogan would but give him the ballad and let him sing it at the corner of St. James's. 'Affluence would be mine,' he said, and dropped a tear. 'Oh, Wilton--Hogan, I would say--'tis a golden opportunity!' But if the opportunity was golden, Wogan was of iron, and they did not leave the debased Crow till he slept in the sheets, which on the night before it was probable that his limbs had never pressed. When the Crow was slumbering like a babe, Mr. Wogan and Tyrell stepped out, turning the key of his chamber on the outside and entrusting it to his landlady. 'Mr. Talbot has a fever,' Wogan told her, 'and will see nobody. He must on no account see anyone except Mr. Tyrell, nor must he be disturbed before his physician calls.' Accompanied by the gift of a crown, the key was pocketed by the woman of the house, who expressed anxiety for the health and repose of so quiet a gentleman as Mr. Talbot. 'And now, what is all this pother about?' Tyrell asked when they were got into the street. 'Come towards the Park and I will instruct you. I need quiet for thought, and sylvan repose. What have you been doing all day?' 'Watching the Crow play the fool at Burton's.' 'You have no news?' 'I have seen nobody.' They walked for a hundred yards or so in silence, Wogan frowning, and Tyrell much perturbed with Wogan's perturbation. 'The new ballad is a true ballad,' said Wogan after a pause. 'Devil a doubt of it; but what then?' 'The greater the truth, the greater the libel.' '_Et apres?_' 'And the greater is the rage of the libelled. This ballad must have run through all the boudoirs before it reached the Crow.' 'And yet I do not smoke you. Where does this touch the affair?' 'The lady that's libelled knew George very well.' Tyrell nodded his head. 'George knew everything,' continued Wogan. Tyrell stopped and caught Wogan by the elbow. 'Then, what George knew the lady knows?' 'No. Thank God, she knows nothing of what is immediately intended. It is a year and more since George and she have spoken. She knows nothing of the Blow. But she knows the men who are directing it.' 'May be she's staunch,' said Tyrell. Wogan quoted Lady Mary: