"Nay, he did not smoke; he was by my side bearing a ladder." "Are you speaking frankly to me, Gil?" said the founder. "I prithee keep nothing back." "Can you speak to me like that?" replied Gil, in a grave, reproachful tone. "Master Cobbe, I have kept nothing back; I have added nothing to my story; I have only left out that there was the priest awaiting on board of my ship, to be our darling's companion until we were made man and wife." "Forgive me, Gil," said the founder. "I know now that you are keeping nothing back. But how could it have happened?" "A shot from one of Sir Mark's men's pieces must have gone through to your store of powder," said Gil. "They did fire, but my men struck their pieces aside." The founder accepted this theory, and they sat in silence for a few moments, till they were interrupted by the approach of a great, dark figure, who seemed at last to make them out. "Ah! friend Cobbe," it said, in the thick rich tones of Master Peasegood, "I was seeking thee. Come; the night-dew is falling, and it is time you were safely housed. Ah! Gil, my good lad, you here?" "Yes," was the curt response. "Master Peasegood, hadst thou but done thy duty by her who was thy charge, these troubles might not have been." "Reproach me not, good lad, I was taken away through Sir Mark's scurvy tricks and carried up to London. And there I was, day after day, half prisoner, half free. Sometimes they'd let me fly a little bit, like a bird with a string at its leg. Other times they'd keep me in, and never a word could I get to know of my offence." "Not a legal prisoner, then?" "Nay, lad, not at all. Though, had I tried to flee I had been tied fast enough, I'll warrant. I took advantage of my freedom to see Saint Paul's, and should be sorry to preach there. I bought me though, as I had my money with me and the chance was good, six yards of cloth in Paul's churchyard to make me a goodly cloak--four pounds sixteen it cost me--and seven yards of calamanko for a cassock; one pound four and sixpence that, besides a pound for a new hat, and six shillings for a lutestring hood for Mistress Hilberry. I lightened my pocket, Gil, but I was heavy enough at heart." Gil nodded. "I grew so hot of blood and angry at last with the way they kept me in, and the too free use I made of the most villainous ale, Master Cobbe, I ever put to my lips, that had I not been blooded freely by a chirurgeon, I should have been ill. It was not the proper time--the haemeroyal time, though close upon the full, but I let him take a good ten ounces from my veins, and felt a better man." "It would have been better, Master Peasegood, had you been here." "True, lad, but I was not my own ruler. That Sir Mark never trusted me. I had hard work to get free again, and hurried down to get to our darling's side. You saw me when I came--that night? Sir Thomas Beckley overtook me, and he brought me on."