Two other things there were which favoured me: one was the fact that Kirke had gone too far, and had been recalled to London in disgrace; the other, that the King was mighty glad to think that the mystery of the Black Box had been solved. Thus the outcome of it was that my pleaders were to call at Whitehall on the morrow, for His Majesty’s decision. This they did, and found him in a rare good humour. The Black Box documents had come to hand, and so the King was pleased to sign my pardon. Then Dassell started on his journey westward with a will. One horse fell dead beneath him; but he got another, and riding through the night, was just in time to save me. How near a thing it was, and how he snatched me from the very jaws of death, ye know already. I fought no more for King James--indeed, there was no chance of doing so, even had I wished it; for, until the Prince of Orange landed at Torbay and drove his faithless uncle flying from the kingdom, England was at peace, if persecution can be called so. But for good King William I have, thank God (along with Kitty, who still flourishes), fought much; and as I am still upon the sunny side of forty, may I have the chance to draw sword for him again! Aye, verily, my father’s words ring often in my ears: "There is no finer work for any man than fighting for his king and country". Yet, sometimes, when I pace the Cobb or shore, I see again the fine brave landing of Duke Monmouth, whose coming brought such suffering and disaster to the West. Or, when wind and sea moan plaintively, I seem to hear the mournful voices of those brave, misguided men whom I so nearly followed to a violent death. Then, with a heavy heart, I come back to The Havering and think sadly of it all. What more is there to say? Well, very little, for now I have reached the end of that which I set out to tell you. If it hath been done clumsily, forgive me, for, indeed, I have small skill in writing. But at any rate, I swear it is a fore-right statement, as we say in Lyme. I have left nothing out, nor have I added anything.... Stay, though! Yes, by my life, I have left something out; for as I sit here writing in the quiet study where, seventeen years ago, I took the first step in the strange adventures here recorded, there stands that at my very elbow which seems to cry aloud for notice. It bears clear signs of mending; it is, in fact, a small Black Box; but though the sight of it brings back dark memories, it holds no terrors for me now. PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN _By Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_