The Colonel followed, like Hamlet, and Mr. Wogan followed the Colonel. Would there be a fourth to follow Wogan? The three men marched in the moonlight, their footsteps rang boldly on the road. Was there a fourth behind them stealthily creeping in the shadow of the wall? As they turned a corner out of the square Wogan fell a little further to the rear. He kept his head screwed upon his shoulders, and he saw a shadow slink round the corner. He listened, and heard the stealthy steps. He stopped; the steps ceased. Wogan went on again. He knew that Scrope was dogging them. The figure in front moved silently on till he reached a sweet spot for an occasion, a little _clairiere_ among the trees, the smoothest sward, moonlight on the grass, dark shadow all around. There he stopped, turned, and dropped his cloak. The moon shone silvery on the silver shoulder-knots of Mr. Kelly. The other two gentlemen advanced. 'Nick,' exclaimed Kelly, 'you should be on your road to the coast.' 'At last!' cried Colonel Montague, dropping his cloak. 'A moment, sir,' said Kelly; 'I must dismiss my friend.' 'And would you be so mad? Are you to have nobody to see fair and run for the surgeon while the other gentleman makes his escape? George, I never knew you were so selfish.' Kelly drew his friend a little way aside. 'Nick, I have that to do which cannot be done before a witness.' Mr. Wogan merely gaped at this extraordinary speech. He noticed that Kelly looked white and haggard even for a man in the full moonlight. 'When I tell you that my honour hangs on it, that a witness is mere ruin, when I pray you by our old friendship? Nick, you _must_ go out of eye-shot and ear-shot.' 'I think you are crazed,' said Wogan. 'I have obeyed you all night. Things have taken the turn that you must obey me. There is no time for an explanation, the hour presses, and, Nick, my honour hangs on it. You must retire to where you can neither see nor hear us, or I am shamed--lost with the Cause.' Mr. Kelly had been whispering, his voice trembled as the Cause was named. Wogan had only once seen him thus moved. Had he played his trumps amiss after all? It seemed he had not won the game. 'Very well,' said Wogan. 'Good-night. I will take care you are not troubled with witnesses.' 'No,' said Kelly suddenly, and then 'yes; goodnight.' He stood looking at Wogan a moment and then hurried off to the Colonel, who seemed, to Wogan's judgment, a man apt to give the Parson his bellyful. Wogan twitched his cloak about him, and took his road down a path, bordered by bushes. It was the path by which they had come into the Park. Wogan was determined that the Parson should not be troubled by witnesses.