Yes, even with Irene's warning, too late; for the man could not go out just as he was. Mr. St. Clive knew full well that every hiding-place would be searched--that escape would be almost impossible--and he shrank from being the bearer of such bad tidings to the husband and wife. But it had to be done, the warning must be given, and given at once, and he rose, Irene following him, and went into the grounds and towards the cottage. His own wife was there at the moment speaking with Mrs. Charlton. And the dismay, the sorrow, that they exhibited when the tidings were told! The poor man must fly from here and be a wanderer again--hunted hither and thither, not knowing from hour to hour if he should be captured, not able even to get a message to his wife, or to hear how it fared with her and his son. It was very hard indeed. "You have done all that one man could to help another, sir," he said to Mr. St. Clive, as he held his weeping wife in his arms. "I shall never, never forget your kindness, nor that of your good wife and dear little daughter. You will be a friend to my poor wife and my boy--I feel sure that you will be--and now I must change this disguise, and go. To go as the old gardener might be more dangerous than to go as the escaped prisoner." "But where can you go? Where can you hide for the time? If you could only find a place, the police might come to the conclusion that the boys had made a mistake, and abandon the search again, so giving you opportunity of getting out of England. So far as money can aid, you can count upon me, but money will be of no avail, if you cannot elude your pursuers, and----" A hurrying of feet! Oh, surely the police could not be there already! No; a well-known shrill whistle! Ralph and his chums were coming, and Ralph must be told. Now, Warren knew nothing about Charlton's father being there, and the two boys had allowed their chum to come in because there was no danger; he would only think that it was an old gardener at work. But when they saw Mr. St. Clive and all the others in that little cottage, they stopped, and Charlton faltered out-- "What is it? Oh, what is it, father?" And so he gave away his secret to the monitor. And they told them, and Charlton stood very white, and clenched his fist. "Elgert again," he said. "Oh, I hate him! I should like to kill him." But his father put his hand on his arm and said, almost sternly-- "My son, such words are not for the lips of a Christian boy." "Well, sir, at any rate you can't blame Fred for using them," broke in Warren. "I know I should feel like it. They are a pair of cads, and deserve kicking." "Be quiet, Tom," chimed in Ralph. "Never mind them. The thing is what can we do? Where can Mr. Charlton go so that he can hide in safety for the time?" "Nowhere," said the man sadly. "There is no spot about here where I can be safe. I am afraid that I am losing heart," he added, "but it seems hopeless."