And I could not find it in me, for all the risk to him, to say him nay. So without more ado Ned went to the hearth, where, by means I did not till long after understand, he very quickly closed the opening in the wall whence Philip had entered. He next caused to appear, on the opposite side of the fire, a passage that was the counterpart of the first. He then returned to the table, and, pouring out wine from the flagon he had brought for me: "Drink," he said to Philip, "and listen. There is little time to spare, for the officer of the watch will soon go again upon his round. You found but half the secret. There," he said, pointing to the grim aperture in the wall of the hearth, of which the dancing light of the flames served but to mark the deeper gloom, "there is the other half. Descend these stairs and follow the gallery. You cannot miss the way. It will take you out among the rocks below the bridge. Thence follow the stream until you are come to the old mill, whence you may with ease reach the highroad." "From the mill," answered Philip, "I shall know my way. God bless you, Royston! It is for the old man's sake." He grasped Ned's hand, laid his own upon my head as if in benediction, and would have left us. "There is one word more to say," said Royston; and Philip turned on the edge of the hearth to hear it. "I cannot let you go," continued the man who would not take the smallest risk of harming his master even in the moment when he was going open-eyed into the danger of branding as a traitor, "I cannot let you go to do further hurt, how honest and open soever, to the cause I serve." "As I gave it to my sister but now," answered Philip, "you have my promise to do nothing for the King, nor against him of Orange, until I have set foot in France." "It will serve," replied Ned. "But--" he added, and then paused, as if with a hesitation of delicacy. "What? Another doubt?" cried Philip, with a laugh. "They say--with what truth I do not know," continued Ned,--"but said it is, that those of your order have strange quirks and quibbles to ease the conscience of oaths and other matters." "Ah!" said Philip. "On what, then, or by what, shall I swear to you?" "Swear me no oath," answered Royston. "Give me your hand and your word as a gentleman of England to abide by the spirit of your promise." So Philip gave him his hand and a straight look in the eyes. "You have it, lad," he said, in convincing accents of simple truth, and so left us, disappearing into the dark chasm of the wall. Now Ned had but just closed behind his retreat the door of stone (by that means which I now know, but will not here set down; for who can tell if political trouble be even yet forever at an end in England?) when there came a hand upon the door. Ned dropped into a seat, muttering: "But just in time!" while I, feigning sleep, stretched myself in my corner of the settle.