"Hist! silence!" whispered Walter, with a glance enforcing caution; "do not breathe that name even within these walls. He is here at risk of his life; but at such a moment he will not be away. A warrant is out against him. He may not venture abroad by night or day. But he can be useful in a thousand ways, for he knows more than any other man of some matters appertaining to the state. And if our hopes be realized, then he will emerge from his prison and rove the country from end to end. He has friends in every place. To him we shall look for guidance in a hundred ways." Walter's eyes glowed. He looked like one to whom triumph is a certainty--one who anticipates success and already tastes the sweets thereof. Cuthbert was growing uncomfortable. He felt as though he were hearing more than he ought to do. True, the Coles had talked in very much this fashion all through the dark days of the previous winter when he had been so much with them. They were always looking for a day of release, always dwelling on the bright prospects of the future. But some instinct told Cuthbert that there was a difference now in the fashion of their talk, and he was made uncomfortable by it though he scarce knew why. He rose to go. "I have but just returned. I have many visits to pay. I will come again anon," he said. "Ay, but come not too openly. Let us not be seen consorting together. And as thou walkest the street, keep thine eyes and thine ears open and attent, and learn ever what men say and think. If thou hearest aught of moment, bring it to us. Every whisper may be of value. And now farewell. Come not again by day, but slip in by the door in the archway when all be wrapped in gloom. So it is safest." Cuthbert drew a deep breath of relief when he stood once again in the fresh air. He walked rapidly through the familiar sunny streets and strove to forget the impression made upon him by the recent interview. "Plots, plots, plots!" he muttered--"nothing but dark plots, and the hope that things will thus be set right. I misdoubt me if it will ever be by such means. Poor souls! I pity them with all my heart; but I like not their ways. They are not the ways of truth, of uprightness, of equity. Methinks I had better hold aloof and have no dealings with them. They seem to think because I like them--the men themselves--and mislike these persecutions even as they do, that I am one with them and understand their ways and their deeds. But I do not, I do not, and I think not that I ever shall. I will go mine own way, and they must go theirs. It were best not to meddle too much in strange matters. Now I will go and seek honest Jacob. From him methinks I shall get as warm a welcome, but a welcome that is not tinged with these mysteries and dark words." Chapter 22: Whispers Abroad. "Have naught to do with them, Cuthbert! I like them not."