"Take him away there," said his worship, "and make him fast in the cellar. These dogs are slippery vermin, so take care. When the rope is round his neck he may wriggle to his heart's content. Come, be off with him." I looked at Ludar, but his back was turned. I looked at Captain Merriman, and he was smiling to himself. I looked at his worship, and he was swearing at his foot. So as all seemed against me, I turned sadly enough and followed my guard to the dungeon. I cared little enough what came to me. Ever since I set foot out of London things had gone against me. I was steeped breast-high in disloyalty and lawlessness; I had staked my peace of mind on a rebel, and now it seemed even he had done with me. Yet I could not believe that. Had I done so, I think I should have beaten out my brains upon the wall of that damp cellar. As it was, I sat there, too bewildered to think. And so, for lack of anything else to do, I fell asleep. I know not how long I had slept, when I was aroused by a hand on my arm. As I might have known, it was Ludar. He had a dish of venison pasty and a flagon of wine in his hands, which he set before me, and in dumb show bade me eat. I obeyed heartily, for I had not tasted food since the morning. Then he took me by the hand, and led me in the darkness up the steps and into the open air. Once clear of the house he broke silence. "Farewell," said he, "I may stay here. My guardian threatens to send me back to Oxford in charge of a troop, but I think I shall stay here a while." "But," said I, "will you not get yourself into trouble over this?" "Over what? your release?" said he, laughing, "I think not. The old gentleman will rave somewhat at first, but when it comes to hanging me or nobody, he will hold his peace. He cannot afford to see a ward of his swing with his feet off the ground. Moreover, as soon as I can hear news from the north, I shall go to find my father. So, farewell, Humphrey. Expect me in London ere long, and forget not our oath." I gave him my hand in answer, and with a heavy heart started on my way. I had not gone many paces when he came after me. "Who and what sort of man is this Captain?" said he. "He is the Devil," said I. And I told him what had passed between us. He laughed loud when I spoke of the duck-pond--so loud that I feared we should be heard. "Oh," said he, when the tale was done, "that settles it." "Settles what?" I asked. "I mean," said he, "that I think I shall slay him." And with that we parted, he back to the house, I, dismally enough, to London. CHAPTER SEVEN. HOW I FOUND TROUBLE ON MY RETURN.