"Not killed?" said he at last. "No; but lost no less for that," I answered. "Aye, lad, I see--I know--I understand, for I, too, lost mine when I was young like thee. Yea, ’tis a grievous thing, indeed, to lose a father." The bloodshot eyes that gazed into my own were sad; the voice, though rough and thick, yet rang with kindness. The things about me seemed to fade away, and I saw nothing save that waxen, upturned face at home. John Coram’s voice recalled me. "Say, friend," said he, laying a hand upon my arm, "what secret lies behind this matter? Go you in fear of anyone?" For a moment I was tempted to trust the fellow and tell everything, but wisdom pointed otherwise. "In fear of anyone!" I echoed with a mocking laugh. "Nay, save me that, I pray you. ’Twas but an idle fancy, nothing else. I only wondered (foolishly enough) if Stark could have been one of them." "Stark!" cried Coram, springing back. "Now, by my life, how came you to think that?" "An idle fancy, as I said before, and nothing else. These fellows gave the password of the night, and so were friends. They used my name; and, pray, why not, when it is free to all? Enough, let’s say no more about it." I stopped and looked at him, then put a last, most daring question, saying: "I wonder if our godly chaplain knows Israel Stark or Tubal Ammon (to give him both his names). Think you he does?" On hearing this, John Coram drew away, and stared at me as though I had gone daft; then, throwing back his head, laughed loud and long. "Ho! ho! if that be not a merry jest, then show me one," cried he. "Doth Master Ferguson know Israel Stark? Oh, by my life, ’tis good--’tis passing good. But, look you, friend, I’ll answer it by asking thee a question. Doth Satan mix with angels?" "It seems to me it may be so," I answered darkly. John Coram started back, and cast a swift, uneasy glance at me. "What mean you by such words as those?" he asked. "Naught," I answered quickly; "nor must I tarry longer. Remember, five gold pieces if you bring me certain news of Tubal Ammon’s whereabouts; and here, by way of token, is a crown-piece on account." "Thou art a rare good fellow, friend," he murmured, staring at the coin; "strange, indeed, but passing good. Nor will I fail thee. True, there is much mystery in the matter, yet I ask no questions. We both want Israel Stark--that’s quite enough for me. Yea, ’tis a handsome bargain, friend, and I, John Coram, will stick unto it like glue." He held a big rough hand out, and I grasped it tightly, for, notwithstanding too much ale and a rather muddled pate, I looked upon him as a kind of brother. "Yes," said I, "’tis true there is some mystery in this affair; but, as we have one end in view, that matters nothing. Let us not fail each other, that is all." "Aye, true," said he; "but, look you, friend, ’tis said the Duke rides out of Lyme within a day or two from now. What then?" "Ah! what then?" "Well, go you with us?"