"Zion!" I put in with a smile, remembering how well the word had served me also. John Coram started. "Yea, verily," said he; "but--but how came you by it?" "Why, man," I laughed, "you gave it me last evening at the ’George’!" "Now, by my life," he muttered, "I have a dim remembrance that ’twas so, though verily my pate was somewhat addled with--Hum! where was I? Ah! as I was saying, that fellow gave the word and so I let him pass. Off he went, a long-cloaked thing of black, into the darkness. But when he was some half-score yards beyond me he turned his face, the moonlight caught it, and I knew it instantly for Israel Stark’s." "Ah! and what did you then?" I put in eagerly. "Did!" echoed Coram, spreading out his hands. "Friend, I did naught, and shame on me for it. So struck was I that I could neither draw a pistol nor pursue. I stood as stiff as any post, and watched the varlet fly. And fly he did; for, look you, he had known me also by that glance, and so sped off into the darkness like some spirit. The Evil One himself could not have vanished swifter. Heavens, friend! it makes me go quite chilly just to think on’t!" "’Twas a fine chance lost," I murmured ruefully; then, as another view of it came into mind, I added: "and yet it gives me cause for gratitude, for had you killed him you had robbed me of a pleasure." But Coram shook his head. "Ah, but all danger had been ended then," said he. "How long was this ago?" I asked. "About two hours; ’twas just before the dawn." I paused a moment. Had Ammon once again been spying on me, and thus got wind of my intentions? "Art certain that he came this way?" I asked. "Aye, verily, I am. Would that I were not, for who knows where so sly a villain may be hiding, ready to work mischief on thee?" Here we both glanced uneasily around. Truly this had a far from pleasing look. The lane was narrow, and bordered thick with trees and bushes--Thrusting such ugly thoughts aside, I asked another question: "But how came you to know my whereabouts?" "Why, in this wise: no sooner was I free than I went unto your house, The Havering, in order to report this matter. There I found that you had ridden forth for Exeter. So borrowed I a horse and rode amain." "Thou art a right good friend, John Coram, and have well earned what I promised thee." Bringing forth my pouch, I would have given him the money, but---- "No," said he, "I came not out to seek reward," and verily his honest face upheld the statement. "I came to warn thee, save thee from a peril, and having done so I am mightily content; while if you slay this fellow my reward is great indeed." "Be sure my best endeavour shall go to that end," said I: "but still, a bargain is a bargain. Therefore, I pray you, take this money." At first he would not; but after much pressing I contrived to give him two gold pieces, for the which his thanks were fervid.