Your son does live, and at the sign of the Anchor it is likely
you would have had the news of him you sought. But that news
would have come when too late to have been of value to you."

Crispin tried to speak, but failed. Then, mastering himself by
an effort, and in a voice that was oddly shaken:

"Hogan," he cried, "you are torturing me! What is the sum of
your knowledge?"

At last the Irishman produced Ashburn's letter to Colonel
Pride.

"My men," said he, "are patrolling the roads in wait for a
malignant that has incurred the Parliament's displeasure. We
have news that he is making for Harwich, where a vessel lies
waiting to carry him to France, and we expect that he will ride
this way. Three hours ago a young man unable clearly to
account for himself rode into our net, and was brought to me.
He was the bearer of a letter to Colonel Pride from Joseph
Ashburn. He had given my sergeant a wrong name, and betrayed
such anxiety to be gone that I deemed his errand a suspicious
one, and broke the seal of that letter. You may thank God,
Galliard, every night of your life that I did so."

"Was this youth Kenneth Stewart?" asked Crispin.

"You have guessed it."

"D -n the lad," he began furiously. Then repressing himself,