"A guilty conscience," he replied; "for did I not reward great goodness with a base ingratitude? Yea, verily. Ever since I treated you thus shamefully black thoughts have been my portion. I could not rest. I felt that I must look upon the house of him whose kindness had been thus wickedly requited. Perchance, thought I, I may behold him also. Therefore I got me into your orchard while it was still dark, and waited. Soon after daylight came I heard the opening of a casement, and looking from my hiding-place behind a bush beheld an old man standing at a window. As fine a gentleman as I have ever seen. Say, friend, was that your father?" "Yes. Go on," I answered sharply. "Ah me! Now just to think of it!" quoth Tubal Ammon, drawing in his breath softly. "The very man whose name I heard so oft from him who was so good to me aboard that ship. Well, friend, I watched your father till he left the window, and presently I heard your voice. Then, creeping up beside the wall, I climbed that tree and gazed into the room. I could just see you both; and twice you heard me and looked forth." "And didst hear what we talked about?" I asked. "Nay, I caught nothing save a hum of voices," he answered readily. "And what of the black cat?" He started at those words; then, with a little shudder, answered: "Ah, an evil beast as ever was. I found it just above me in the tree, and cast a noose about its neck, meaning to strangle it for fear it should betray me, but it shot off and took my cord along with it. Soon afterwards the faithless branch broke, and--well, you know the rest. Thus ends my true confession, friend--what say you?" "Why, this," I answered sternly; "the conscience part of it is little to my liking; for ’tis my firm belief you came to spy, and afterwards to rob. If it be not so--if my judgment is at fault, come down and prove your words." "How so? What mean you, friend?" he asked. "Come down, and let me take you to my father," I replied. "Nay, nay!" cracked Tubal Ammon, shaking his head until the leaves around it fairly danced. "I dare not." "And why not?" "Because methinks that you would hold me prisoner and deliver me to justice." "Nay, have no fear of that. You are not worth the trouble. Come, then, and tell my father what you have told me. No harm will come of it. You shall go free. You have my word for that." "I will consider it," said Tubal Ammon, and with that disappeared behind the leaves. As I stood listening a gentle click came from the tree. "What are you doing there?" I shouted. "Wrestling with my thoughts," came back the high-pitched answer. "Or reloading--which?" I asked. "If ’tis the latter, save yourself the trouble, for, look you, I am safe from bullets." With that I slipped behind a tree-trunk, and for wellnigh a minute there was silence. Then out popped Ammon’s shaven head again. "’Twould seem your faith in me is small," he sang.