"Sir Charles hath a yellow beard, brown hair, and hath a sweet mellow voice," he replied. "Ay, but he is cleverer than any play-actor in London. Besides, he knows that just now the search is somewhat lax, seeing that every one is at Dover waiting to welcome the new King." "Then--then----" "Ah, more I may not tell you. Ay, and seek to know no more, Master Roland. The chase cannot last long: she will be taken, and then God have mercy on her!" "And Sir Charles?" A cloud crossed his face, and that harsh, cruel look which I had seen in his eyes when first we met came back. "Who knows?" he snarled. "Who knows, if he----but enough of that, Master Roland. There is something of more importance. There is that for which you came hither; your fate, and perchance mine, depend on that." CHAPTER XI THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER "You want the king's marriage contract," he said presently; "you desire the proof that Charles Stuart was married to Lucy Walters, and thus be able to prove that the boy who is now with the king's mother is the next heir to the English throne?" I nodded my head in the affirmative, all the time watching the old man's eyes, into which a cunning sinister expression had come. "It is a great thing, a great thing," he cackled. "Fancy, the Duke of York would give his fingers to get hold of it. And yet only you and I have the secret of it." "Only you at present," I urged. "Ah, yes, only I, only I; but I need you, and you shall know. Ha! ha!" and he laughed like a man tickled. "But we must bide our time," he continued presently. "What do you mean?" I asked. "It is no use removing it from its present hiding-place until the proper time," he said. "Suppose you had it in your hand now. What would you do with it? Would you go to the king, and say, 'Look, here is the marriage contract between you and Lucy Walters'? Such would be the act of a fool. And you are not a fool--no, you are not a fool!" "But I must know where it is," I cried, "and I must be assured that the thing is not a hoax." "Ay, that you shall," he replied; "come with me." He rose, took a candle in his hand, and made his way towards the door. "Whither?" I asked. "To the hiding-place," was his answer, and he gazed anxiously around the room. Even in those days I possessed a fair amount of caution, and thus, while I unbolted the door, I kept close to him, so that at no moment should he be able to betray me. Outside the door, he stopped and listened. Even in that lonely place and at that awesome hour, he seemed apprehensive lest some one should spy upon our actions. But he had no need to fear. All was silent as death. The house was empty, and every sound that we made echoed and re-echoed through the empty chambers.