So there was an upright man, possibly a very Hugo in character, who was
thwarting and defying the evildoer in his nefarious career, and there was
a dastardly plot afoot to break his neck! Possibly the attempt would be
made within the next few hours. He must certainly be warned. Alethia
remembered how Lady Sylvia Broomgate, in _Nightshade Court_, had
pretended to be bolted with by her horse up to the front door of a
threatened county magnate, and had whispered a warning in his ear which
saved him from being the victim of foul murder. She wondered if there
was a quiet pony in the stables on which she would be allowed to ride out
alone. The chances were that she would be watched. Robert would come
spurring after her and seize her bridle just as she was turning in at Sir
John's gates.

A group of men that they passed in a village street gave them no very
friendly looks, and Alethia thought she heard a furtive hiss; a moment
later they came upon an errand boy riding a bicycle. He had the frank
open countenance, neatly brushed hair and tidy clothes that betoken a
clear conscience and a good mother. He stared straight at the occupants
of the car, and, after he had passed them, sang in his clear, boyish
voice:

"We'll hang Bobby Bludward on the sour apple tree."

Robert merely laughed. That was how he took the scorn and condemnation
of his fellow-men. He had goaded them to desperation with his shameless
depravity till they spoke openly of putting him to a violent death, and
he laughed.

Mrs. Bludward proved to be of the type that Alethia had suspected, thin-