The night was falling fast as I drew near Bedford town. The weather was very fine, however, and the country side was fair to behold. Flowers were blooming on all sides, and the scent of the young and bursting life was indeed pleasant. Not that I was in a mood to enter into the joyousness of that spring evening, for I had ridden hard since morning, and I noticed that Black Ben's head drooped, and he dragged one leg wearily after another. Besides, my mind was filled with many doubts and fears. Why had I come to a town of which I knew nothing? And why should I seek to rescue a woman from prison who thought so little of my help that she had treated my offer with but little respect? Added to this, why should I, the son of a gentleman who had fought for Charles Stuart, seek to befriend the woman who had attempted murder in order to prevent the rightful king of the country from coming back to his throne? These questions, which persisted in coming to me, were real and forceful enough, and try as I would I could find no satisfactory answer to them. Yet did I ride straight on, determined to do that which reason and welfare declared to be madness. For the woman's face haunted me. The look of despair I had seen in her eyes, the tone of her voice, appealed to me so strongly for help that I could not resist. More than that, the very mystery which surrounded her strengthened my determination. What led her to Folkestone, and what connection had she with the old man with whom I had had such strange experiences at Pycroft Hall? All this determined me to get to Bedford that night, and then to use my utmost endeavour to deliver her from the hands of Monk's minions and from the king's power. I heard the bells from the old church at Bedford pealing out a note of joy, when I saw a man in plain homely garments trudging along the road in front of me. "Give you good even," he said, as I rode up. "Good even," I replied, trying to discern in the fast failing light whether he was a man of quality. "You look as though you have ridden far." "From London," I replied, reflecting that although he looked not like a man of wealth, there was an air of authority about him, which made it impossible to pass him by without a second look. "Ah," he said eagerly. "And what is the news from London?" "There is much," I replied; "and yet it will not take long in the telling." "And how is that?" "Because it all hath to do with the same thing. When you have said that the new king is on his way thither and that the people are preparing to welcome him, you have told all." "Ah, but that means much, I fear." "You fear?" "Ay, I fear, young master, for I fear me the devil is unloosed in London town. If what I have heard be true, then all those things which the children of the Lord have fought against, and driven into the darkness, are to be flaunted in broad daylight, and no man will dare to cry shame." "The new king loves pleasure," I made answer.