helped him had he known how.

He lay for a few moments wondering and pondering. Certainly his
father was no foe to any man. He could not be hiding from his
displeasure. The fugitive had rather taken refuge in his house; and
if so, who better could be found to help him than the son of the
owner?

"Our father and our mother alike have always taught us to befriend
the stranger and the oppressed," said the boy to himself. "I will
ask this stranger of himself, and see if I may befriend him. I
would gladly learn the trick of yon door. It would be a goodly
secret to have for our very own."

It was plain that the fugitive, though aware that the room was
tenanted, had satisfied himself that the occupants were all asleep.
He had ceased his frightened, furtive looks around him, and was
quaffing the last of the water with an air of relish and relief
that was good to see, pausing from time to time to stretch his
limbs and to draw in great gulps of fresh air through the open
window by which he stood, as a prisoner might do who had just been
released from harsh captivity.

The moonlight shining upon his face showed it haggard, unkempt, and
unshorn. Plainly he had been several days in hiding; and by the
gauntness of his figure, and the wolfish gleam in his eye as it
roved quickly round the apartment, as if in search of food, it was
plain that he was suffering keenly from hunger, too.

Bertram's decision was quickly taken. Whilst the man's face was