Robert stood thunderstruck as the ladies went away. Susie’s eyes had sought his with a wistful look, a sort of appeal for a word to herself, a something to be said which should not be merely formal. But Robbie was far too much concerned to have a thought to spare for Susie. She had not heard Mrs Ainslie’s last words: if she had heard them, she would have cared nothing, nor thought anything of them. What could this woman be to Robbie? was she trying to charm him as she had charmed the innocent unconscious minister? Susie turned away indignantly, and with a sore heart. She saw that she was nothing to her old comrade, her early lover; but yet she did not know how entirely she was nothing to him, and how full his mind was of another interest. He hurried back into the dining-room with panic in his soul. Lew lay stretched out on his chair as Mrs Ainslie had seen him; the warm afternoon and the heavy meal had overcome him; his long legs stretched half across the room; his head was thrown back on the high back of his chair. His eyes were shut, his mouth a little open. More complete rest never enveloped and soothed any fat and greasy citizen after dinner. Robert looked at him with mingled irritation and admiration. It is true that there was no thought of peril in the outlaw’s mind--this long interval of quiet had put all his alarms to sleep--but he would have been equally reckless, equally ready to take his rest and his pleasure, had he been consciously in the midst of his foes. “Lew,” said Robert, shaking him by the shoulder, and speaking in a subdued voice very different from the noisy tones which had betrayed them,--“Lew, wake up--there’s spies about--there’s danger at hand.” “Eh!” cried the other. He regarded his friend for an instant with the half-conscious smile of an abruptly awakened sleeper. The next moment he had shaken himself, and sat up in his chair awake and intelligent to his very finger-points. “Spies--danger--what did you say?” His hand stole to his pocket instinctively once more. “Oh, there’s no occasion for that,” said Robert. “All that has happened is this,--there is a woman here--that knows you, Lew----” “A woman--that knows me!” Perhaps it was genuine relief, perhaps only bravado to reassure his comrade--“Well, Bob, the question is, is she a pretty one?” “For heaven’s sake,” cried Robert, “be done with nonsense--this is serious. She’s--not a young woman. I’ve heard of her: she’s a stranger, but has got some influence in the place. She saw you as she passed that window.” “I thought I saw some one pass that window--it’s a devil of a window, a complete spy-hole.” “And she must have recognised you. She invited me to come to see her when we were out on one of our night walks,--and to bring Lew.”