"So you found a traitor in the camp," he said, at last. "Let him beware—but, tush! I know who it is; it can be no other than Samuel. I need not interfere with him; he will find his own way to the gallows soon enough. I’m afraid I shall have to search you, my friend. You may as well take it quietly; you know I’m an expert at discovering hidden treasure." Lord Beachcombe, however, would not submit quietly, so Robin bound him securely to a chair and instituted a rigorous search, which revealed nothing except the emblazoned note of invitation to the ball. So, warning his prisoner that any outcry would lead to rough treatment from those who were left in charge of him, Robin withdrew, taking with him the packet and the invitation, and also Beachcombe’s sword and the lamp, and leaving him to darkness and reflection. *CHAPTER XIV* *A PAIR OF GLOVES* When Robin Freemantle left Prue, she ran to the mirror and critically examined her reflection in it. "What a fright I look!" she exclaimed, "with my hair plastered down and my nose red and swollen. Peggie, I should not be surprised if that man were as disappointed with his bargain as I am with mine." "You don’t look much like yourself," Peggie admitted frankly. "But even as you are, you must be a great deal prettier than the sort of women a highwayman would be used to." "Why, Peggie, do you think—do you suppose Robin has women-thieves for friends? Pick-pockets, perhaps—or Gipsies! Yet he looks like a gentleman. Highwaymen are sometimes brave and chivalrous—one hears of their doing generous things—they are not like common malefactors—" "They get hanged, all the same," said Peggie unthinkingly. "Oh! Peggie, you wicked, cruel creature; how dare you say such things!" cried Prue indignantly. "Robin hanged! Never, never! I would rather go to the queen and implore a pardon for him on my knees. Peggie, you saw him yourself. He is handsome, is he not, and dignified? He made me feel very much ashamed of myself; yet I hate him! I would I had never set eyes on him! Do you suppose he despises me, Peggie?" "I shouldn’t think he would have the impudence!" exclaimed Peggie. "A common adventurer, if no worse." "Adventurer, ’tis true, but which of us is not? Am I not an adventuress, Peggie? Aye, and not so very honest a one either. Say he will rob my Lord Bishop of his wig and my Lord Tomnoddy of his purse; what better do I when I buy what I can not pay for, and marry a man condemned to be hanged in order to cheat my creditors. Oh! my dear Peggie, there are many fine folk with their noses in the air, who can not glance into a mirror without seeing the reflection of an adventurer." "Not a doubt of it," said Peggie philosophically. "but most people, when they look in a mirror, see nothing there but what they want to see."