"I cannot tell, but there is no doubt as to what he has done. It is well known that he has helped many of the rebels into safe hiding. There is another who is doing the same, a highwayman called 'Galloping Hermit.' You may have heard of him." "Is he, too, in Dorsetshire?" "The country people speak of him; now he is here, now there, but--" "Do you think your master and this highwayman are the same person?" asked Barbara, and with more eagerness than she had asked her other questions. "I have heard other people wonder whether they were, but I do not believe it; still, if Mr. Crosby is 'Galloping Hermit,' he is a man to be proud of. I would--" "Yes, yes, I know," said Barbara; "but you can hardly expect me to take much interest in a highwayman." "No, madam, of course not. I was not thinking of the highwayman, but of my master. It is on his account that I have journeyed to see you." "It was good and honest of you to come," said Barbara. "I must think what I can do. Are you remaining in London?" "I have a cousin in the city who is married to a mercer's assistant; I shall remain with her for a day or two," the girl answered. "Come to-morrow about noon; I shall have decided something then." "And if not you could help me to find this fiddler, perhaps?" said the girl. When she had gone Martin came from behind the screen, and Barbara looked at him, her eyes full of questions. "Yes, mistress, I fear her story is true. What she says of Mr. Crosby's doings is correct, also it is a fact that Galloping Hermit has been in Dorsetshire." "You have seen him?" "I have heard of him." "I must try and help him though he is a highwayman," said Barbara. "There can be no longer any doubt, Martin, that the two are one." "Yet you will help him? How?" "There is a way, a hard way, and I am not yet certain what it may mean to me, but it shall be done; yes, it shall be done." As she turned to a window and looked down into the square, Martin saw that there were tears in her eyes. "Tell me, mistress. You have told me your troubles before now, and it has not been always in vain." "I will tell you later, Martin.". "Perhaps it will be too late then," he answered. "Count the cost, mistress; is a highwayman worth the price?" "That girl was right," said Barbara, turning a glowing face to Martin. There were tears in her eyes, but they had not fallen. "She was right; even a highwayman is a man to be proud of when he helps the suffering from their brutal persecutors, as this Galloping Hermit is doing. I would sacrifice much even for a highwayman, and when he is Gilbert Crosby, too--ah! Martin, I have had dreams, pleasant dreams. I am awake now, they are only a memory, but, if need be, I will pay for them to the uttermost farthing." "You will not tell me the price?" "When I know it, and that will be to-morrow. Come to-morrow afternoon, Martin, unless you are going back to Aylingford at once."