[Sidenote: Bad company.] But she shook her head silently. "It is not possible," he went on. "He--Ruth--that man and I have touched hands, in--well, in token of good fellowship." "And God forgive you then, Lawrence," she replied. "As indeed I think he will. Because you do not know all. I am sure you do not know-- But hush!" she went on, interrupting herself; "hush, we must not be found here. My father will be back--" "Ay, but not yet awhile. I left them all deep in--in their conversation, in the octagon vault." "And did not their conversation interest you, Lawrence?" demanded she, gazing keenly into his face. "Why, to confess the truth, not so very much," he replied, evading her look. "And your father--" "Ay," she said eagerly, as he hesitated. "He said I should mayhap do better to be coming on, and joining company with Colonel Rumsey and Master Goodenough here. I doubt," he continued ruminatively, "he suspected they might be falling to loggerheads; for I never knew them meet, but what they did always set to sparring like a pair of Kilkenny cats." "That may be so," answered Ruth; "but this I am positive of, that those dreadful men wanted to be rid of you, for they would not have you know of the shameful deeds they are plotting. They make but a tool and a cat's-paw of you, Lawrence. Ay, but they do," she insisted, in no way daunted by the wave of offended dignity Lee's hand made. "For they know well enough that your heart is too honourable to stoop to baseness like theirs." "Tut! tut!--" "They think you but a fool, and right proud I am they do; for they are knaves and murderers. Their whole talk to-night was of the best way of killing the king." "Killing the king?!!" "And the Duke of York When they should come back next week from Newmarket." "But--but your father?!" gasped Lee. "He--" [Sidenote: A child's grief.] "Oh do not--do not speak of him," implored she, clasping her hands in agony. "My good, dear father, Lawrence. How can we save him?" she went on in calmer tones. "Save your father?" said Lawrence, gazing in helpless dejection into the misery of her face. "The king; the king; for to save him, is to save my father from--from--sure, Lawrence, he must be mad; he must be saved from himself. And I--you must do it. Do you hear? Do you understand?" Understanding, Lawrence felt, might come in time. For the present, only his ears fully mastered what Ruth had said, and, helplessly shrugging his shoulders, he continued to stand gazing vacantly at the prostrate form of Rumsey's victim. "Yes, yes," she said, her eyes following his, "you are quite right. He must not be found here." [Sidenote: The secret kept.] "But," began Lawrence, "how can we hide him?" and he glanced towards the door communicating with hers. She shook her head. "'Tis locked; my father has the key. He took it this morning. There is but one way;" and she pointed to the broken panel--"this."