Houseman was too wary to invite him to appear and save his wife; for, in that case, he feared the Crown would use his advertisements as evidence at the trial, should Griffith not appear.
The fact is, Houseman relied more upon certain lacunæ in the evidence, and the absence of all marks of violence, than upon any hope that Griffith might be alive.
The assizes drew near, and no fresh light broke in upon this mysterious case.
Mrs. Gaunt lay in her bed at night, and thought and thought.
Now the female understanding has sometimes remarkable power under such circumstances. By degrees Truth flashes across it, like lightning in the dark.
After many such nightly meditations, Mrs. Gaunt sent one day for Sir George Neville and Mr. Houseman, and addressed them as follows "I believe he is alive, and that I can guess where he is at this moment."
Both the gentlemen started, and looked amazed.
"Yes, sirs; so sure as we sit here, he is now at a little inn in Lancashire, called the 'Packhorse,' with a woman he calls his wife." And, with this, her face was scarlet, and her eyes flashed their old fire.
She exacted a solemn promise of secrecy from them, and then she told them all she had learned from Thomas Leicester.
"And so now," said she, "I believe you can save my life, if you think it is worth saving." And with this, she began to cry bitterly.