It was the day after this conversation with Judge Marriott that Martin Fairley came to see her for the second time since she had left Aylingford. To Barbara he seemed strangely out of place in town, the air he assumed of being exactly like other men ill-suited him, and he seemed at a loss without his bow and fiddle. His dress, too, was strictly conventional, and it appeared to affect the manner of his conversation. He was as a man in bonds. "In London again, Martin!" Barbara exclaimed. "To see that you are not in trouble, mistress," he answered, and it would have been difficult for a stranger to tell whether he was a lover, or a trusted servant of long standing; there was something of both in his manner. "It is a long way to come." "It is lonely at the Abbey," he said. "Do you think you are safe there, Martin? Would it not be better to go away for a time?" "Since you are not there, mistress, I lock the door of the tower at nights." "But Sir John knows you are at the Abbey, and you cannot lock yourself in the tower all day," said Barbara. "Your uncle is a little afraid of me. He is superstitious, and unless he has someone beside him to lend him courage, he will not molest me. Besides, there have been many festivals where my fiddle was wanted; I have not been much at the Abbey." "You have been towards the West?" said Barbara eagerly. "Yes." "And you have heard--" "Yes, mistress. I have heard how they suffer." "Have you heard aught of Mr. Crosby?" "Once or twice. I have seen one or two men who have said they escaped the soldiers by his help. He is doing all a man can do, I think, but for a fortnight I have heard nothing." "Do you know that Judge Jeffreys goes West directly?" "For the Assizes, yes. God help the prisoners! An unjust judge, mistress, a fawning servant of a brutal and revengeful King." "Hush, Martin!" Barbara whispered. "It may be dangerous to speak the truth." As if to prove the warning necessary, there came a knock at the door. "There is a young woman asking to see you," said the servant. "She would give no name, but declared you would see her if I said Lenfield." "Lenfield!" and her eyes met Martin's quickly. "Bring her up at once." "Mistress, she may talk more freely if she is atone with you," said Martin. "There is a screen there, may I use it?" Barbara nodded, and was alone when the woman entered the room. "You are Mistress Lanison?" she asked, dropping a curtsy. "Yes." "My name is Harriet Payne, and I was a servant at Lenfield Manor when my master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, escaped. Some of us, Golding the butler and myself amongst others, were arrested and taken to Dorchester." "Yes, and then--"