“I think well that all the Folk in Green have been here! It is such a place as they flock to. Morgen Fay hid here at the ruined farm.” “No! _She walked in this wood._” Green light and purple light and gold. Throstle and finch and cuckoo, robin and lark. Fern up-growing, wild plants in bloom, the wood a chalice of odours, censer swinging. Englefield put his hands to his temples. “Friday!” “What is it, man?” The other moved to a tree whose great roots pushed above the soil. “Come sit here, younger brother, and listen to me!” Thomas Bettany obeyed and he moved as one in a dream, or as though the wood had grown a magic wood. “You have become leader here. Something has come to bloom and to fruit in you in a night!” “I shall not go upon the _Vineyard_ unless there go two.” “Two?” “Unless she that lies in prison goes.” “Morgen Fay!” “Aye. Morgen Fay--Morgen Fay.” Bettany put hands to tree to steady himself. “What is here?” “Didst never read that man holds within himself autumn, winter, spring and summer, the moon, the earth, the sun and the four kingdoms? Maybe the fifth, but we have not come to that yet.” “Friday.” “Are you not willing that she should vanish from them, cheating the cheaters? Friday. Death in flame!” “God, He knoweth. I think that she should live!” “Look at me!” Thomas Bettany looked. Again he steadied himself, he drew hard breath. “How could you get her out of prison? It is not to be done!” “Then no ship takes me to-night or to-morrow night! Friday. There will I be by town cross!” “Not in two days could you save her!” “Suppose we try?” Thomas Bettany stared at an artist in daring. This gold-worker had imaged, drawn and beaten out many a bold pattern, many an intricate and subtle. Now he said, “Come, deliver what material you may! How lies prison within and without? Who are there? Tell what you know. We have to-day which is Wednesday and to-morrow which is Thursday. The _Vineyard_ must not sail before cockcrow Friday.” “I could not buy Diccon there! I might beg him for love.” “However you do it, you will do it. I see in fine air within gross air a ship that weighs anchor at dawn, Friday. Now, tell!” Bettany described with minuteness that prison and its economy. “I have a man, John Cobb. His cousin Godfrey is gaoler.” “So, thou seest!” “But there is naught I know of that would buy Godfrey. Keys might be melted in his hold but he would not give them up! Town, castle and Church know Godfrey.” “Then let him not know that they are gone.” “That is not possible.” “It is possible, or I would not see the _Vineyard_ sailing Friday. Everything is possible save her burning. Can your man sit with Godfrey, drinking ale with him maybe, and come to handling and fingering keys great and small, and questioning, ‘This is great door, this inner ward, and this where she lies who burns a-Friday?’” “So much as that is possible.”