“Well, you must get her my letter, somehow, and, furthermore, tell me what you yourself are willing to do for Mistress Aline.” “I would give my life for her,” said John simply. “Then,” said the other, looking him straight in the face, “you must hie you home at once and I will follow as soon as I can be ready. Keep a sharp look-out for the inquisitors and, if I do not come before them, you must get speech of her by hook or by crook and tell her that I, James Mitchell, told you that she must reveal to you our secret and that you must feed her. She will know what that means and you must do as she bids you. Indeed, if you get there before me, you had better do this in any case.” “Surely I will; how could I other?” “Marry then, hasten; for, even now we know not what an hour may bring forth. We must not wait for Walter, though he would have been our best aid. God speed thy feet, John; my heart goes with thee and I myself shall follow hard after thee.” Without more ado John took his small bundle and started off at once. Ian was nearly beside himself, the shock had brought on the pains in his head and he put his hands to his throbbing brows and strove to think. His money had all gone; how was he to act? Certainly the first thing was to get the child away somewhere, but how even was that to be done without horses? If only Margrove and his horses had been to hand! But that was a vain wish. Of course she could be concealed in the secret room, but he felt this was too perilous. There was risk enough in feeding him when Aline and Audry had been in the house. Suspicion would be roused tenfold if Aline were simply to disappear. John would certainly be seen, sooner or later, carrying food to the gully. Mortifying as the discovery of old Moll had been, it was a mercy to be forewarned. No, it might do as a very temporary expedient, but no more. Of course it might be just within the bounds of possibility to get horses from Holwick Hall itself; but failure would mean absolute and irretrievable disaster. No again, nothing must be left to chance. Suddenly a thought struck him, there were horses on the estate where Andrew Woolridge worked. Possibly Andrew might help him and, if not, the risk was comparatively small. This then decided him. He would set out immediately; but there was one more thing to consider. Should he say anything to the boy, Wilfred? It was true, he argued, that the more people that knew, the greater the chance of discovery. But on the other hand, if anything should happen to him, how was Aline to be saved? After all there was still Walter Margrove, who would surely attempt to do something. Finally he went and found Wilfred. “Wilfred,” he said, “I want to ask a favour of thee.” “That mayest thou well ask, Master Mitchell.”