For half an hour or more the coach stood before the door of "The Jolly Farmers," and then, with fresh horses, started briskly on its journey to Southampton. At the inn the landlord had waited upon his guests so attentively that they could say little to each other, but in the coach they were alone, shut away with their happiness from all the prying world. With her golden head upon his shoulder, Barbara told Crosby all that she had feared, all her doubts. There were so many things to make her certain that he was "Galloping Hermit." "I know," he answered. "It has suited my purpose sometimes while I have been helping men to escape out of the West Country to let my enemies suppose that I was; but it never occurred to me that you would think so. Now I understand some of your words which troubled me, hurt me, almost. Are you content to take the way with me, dearest? I have not forgotten my promise." "Gilbert, I am ashamed now that I ever asked you to make it," she said, clinging close to him. "Kiss me, and forgive me. I think I should have gone with you even if you had been 'Galloping Hermit.'" Awaiting them, and beginning to grow anxious, they found Sydney Fellowes at "The Spanish Galleon." Crosby was not surprised, although he had half expected to see Martin Fairley. As Fellowes bent over her hand, Barbara thanked him. "Gilbert has told me how much you have done for me," she said. "I have heard of the triple alliance Surely no woman ever had better friends than I." "I wish Martin were here," said Crosby. "We must talk of him presently," said Fellowes. "An hour for rest and food, then you must be on the road again. I must come with you as far as Southampton. It is my part to bid you farewell out of this country. I hope before long it may be my part to welcome you back." When they had started again, Fellowes took some papers from his pocket. "These are for you, Mistress Lanison, to read at your leisure. I had them from Martin Fairley to give to you." "I wish I could have seen Martin to thank him too." "That is impossible." "Impossible! Why? Surely he is not dead?" "No; yet I do not think you will ever see him again. Have you never guessed his secret, Mistress Lanison?" "Secret?" "Nor you, Crosby?" "Surely Martin cannot be 'Galloping Hermit'!" Barbara exclaimed.