"Tell me," he whispered, "are you his wife? If so, I will make no further demur. For your sake," he added as an afterthought, "I am willing not only to free this—gentleman—but to aid his escape, although, by doing so, I play the traitor to my sovereign." Prue gazed steadily into his eyes, as though she would read the depths of his mean soul. Then she replied firmly, "I am his wife." "He is free! I pledge you my word I will not pursue him. Let him go where he pleases; your husband is sacred in my eyes." The sinister light in them was not in accordance with the bland, congratulatory smile that played over his lips, as he turned to Robin. "The Lady Prudence has proved irresistible, as usual, Captain Freemantle. You are free. Take my advice and use your freedom to put as many leagues as possible between yourself and London. _I_ shall not pursue you, but there are others who seek your life, on whom the charms of Lady Prue might be exercised in vain. Untie his hands and set him free." When he was obeyed and Robin had returned his pockets to their proper place, Beachcombe restored their ravished contents, reserving only one object. With his eyes fastened upon that, Robin pocketed his well-furnished purse, his handkerchief and other belongings, and then held out his hand once more. "Your pardon, Lord Beachcombe, you have forgotten my wallet." "The contents of that wallet, Sir Highwayman, concern matters of too great importance for either of us to deal with. It shall be placed in the hands of those most interested—when you are out of their reach," was the reply, pompously delivered. "I can not leave this place without that wallet," said Robin resolutely. "It is worth more than life to me, and rather than purchase my freedom at the price of its surrender, I will remain here, and risk the worst." "Robin!" cried Prue, in a voice of anguish. "Have pity on me if not on yourself!" "Would you have me sacrifice a hundred lives to save my own?" said Robin unflinchingly, though pale to the lips. With drooping head she sank upon a bench, her courage for the first time failing. Lord Beachcombe looked from one to the other with a scowl as black as thunder, then with a sudden impulse snatched up the wallet and almost flung it into Robin’s hand. "Go!" he shouted; "go quickly, before I have time to repent my folly, and remember that other swords will soon be thirsting for your life," and he laughed harshly, as he turned abruptly away and walked to the farther end of the hall. Then Robin approached Prue and taking her hand, said gently, "A thousand pardons, dear Heart of my heart. I must seem an ungrateful churl; but oh! if you could know—I will write—" "Yes, yes!" she interrupted feverishly; "but now go quickly—every moment’s delay is fatal to you—and to me—" the last words were murmured inaudibly. "How soon can you reach some safe concealment?"