perdition. But a second's thought sufficed to quell that mood
of his.

"I shall not fail you," he said coldly. "Have you money for
the journey?"

The boy flushed as he remembered that little was left of what
Joseph Ashburn had given him. Crispin saw the flush, and
reading aright its meaning, he drew from his pocket a purse
that he had been fingering, and placed it quietly upon the
table. "There are fifty Caroluses in that bag. That should
suffice to carry you to France. Fare you well until we meet at
Calais."

And without giving the boy time to utter thanks that might be
unwilling, he quickly left the room.

Within the hour he was in the saddle, and his horse's head was
turned northwards once more.

He rode through Newport some three hours later without drawing
rein. By the door of the Raven Inn stood a travelling
carriage, upon which he did not so much as bestow a look.

By the merest thread hangs at times the whole of a man's future
life, the destinies even of men as yet unborn. So much may
depend indeed upon a glance, that had not Crispin kept his eyes
that morning upon the grey road before him, had he chanced to
look sideways as he passed the Raven Inn at Newport, and seen
the Ashburn arms displayed upon the panels of that coach, he