"He says, too, that the water is out on the road," continued the Dutchman. "Nonsense! Double the price!" cried my lady impatiently. I suppose that this turned the scale. The landlord finally promised that in an hour four saddle-horses for Master Bertie and the Duchess, Anne and myself, should be ready, with a couple of pack-horses and a guide. Master Lindstrom, his daughter, and Van Tree would start a little later for Cleves, five miles on the road to Santon, if conveyance could be got. "And if not," our late host added, as we said something about our unwillingness to leave him in danger, "I shall be safe enough in the town, but I hope to sleep in Cleves." It was all settled very hastily. We felt--and I in particular, since my plan had been adopted--an unreasonable impatience to be off. As we stood on the bank by the inn-door, we had a straight reach of river a mile long in full view below us; and now we were no longer moving ourselves, but standing still, expected each minute to see the Spanish boat, with its crew of desperadoes, sweep round the corner before our eyes. Master Lindstrom assured us that if we were once out of sight our pursuers would get no information as to the road we had taken, either from the inn-keeper or his neighbors. "There is no love lost between them and the Spaniards," he said shrewdly. "And I know the people here, and they know me. The burghers may not be very keen to come to blows with the Spaniards or to resent their foray. But the latter, on their part, will be careful not to go too far or to make themselves obnoxious." We took the opportunity of supping then, not knowing when we might get food again. I happened to finish first, and, hearing the horses' hoofs, went out and watched the lads who were to be our guides fastening the baggage on the sumpter beasts. I gave them a hand--not without a wince or two, for the wound in my chest was painful--and while doing so had a flash of remembrance. I went to the unglazed window of the kitchen in which the others sat, and leaned my elbows on the sill. "I say!" I said, full of my discovery, "there is something we have forgotten!" "What?" asked the Duchess, rising and coming toward me, while the others paused in their meal to listen. "The letter to Mistress Clarence," I answered. "I was going to get it when I was stabbed, you remember, and afterward we forgot all about it. Now it is too late. It has been left behind." She did not answer then, but came out to me, and turned with me to look at the horses. "This comes of your foolish scruples, Master Francis!" she said severely. "Where was it?" "I slipped it between the leathers of the old haversack you gave me," I answered, "which I used to have for a pillow. Van Tree brought my things down, but overlooked the haversack, I suppose. At any rate, it is not here." "Well, it is no good crying over spilt milk," she said.