"I know not that it is too late," replied Lord Chartley. "You have not got the tally board so completely in your hand, my friend, as to run up the score without looking at the other side. But, in a word, I have made a good excuse to leave my friends and servants, in order to see whether I could obtain some warrant for trusting you, in a matter of such deep importance as that which may perhaps be soon cast upon you."
"The best of all warrants for a man's good faith, my lord," answered the woodman, "is the certainty that he can gain nothing by breaking it. Now to speak plainly, I knew yesterday that good old Father Morton, bishop of Ely, was housed at Tamworth under the gown of a friar. To-night I know that he is lodged in the abbey. Had it so pleased me either yesterday or to-day, I could have brought over as many of King Richard's bands from Coleshill as would have soon conveyed his right reverence to the tower, and if reward is to be got, could have got it. Therefore, it is not a bit more likely that I should betray him, were he now standing under this roof, than yesterday in Tamworth, or to-day at Atherston St. Clare."
"There is some truth in what you say," answered Lord Chartley; "and I believe the best plan is to let a good dog beat the ground his own way. Yet I would fain know how you were informed that such a person was with me."
"What has that to do with the matter?" answered the woodman. "Take it all for granted. You see I am informed. What matters how?"
"Because it is somewhat suspicious," answered Lord Chartley at once, "that you should gain intelligence having no reference to your calling or station, while others both shrewd and watchful have gained none."
"I have no intelligence," replied the woodman. "Everything is simple enough when we look at it close. I saw the bishop dismount, knew him, and understood the whole business in a minute. He was kind to some whom I loved in years long past; and I do not forget faces--that is all. But now, my good lord, you have somewhat squeezed me with examinations. Let me ask you a question or two, of quite as much moment. On what excuse did you leave your friends and servants?"
"Good faith, you know so much," replied Lord Chartley, "that methinks you might know that also. However, as I must trust you in more weighty matters, I may as well tell that too. I have some doubts of one of our party, who joined us just on the other side of Tamworth, and has adhered closely to us ever since."
"Like a wet boot to a swelled ancle, I will answer for it," said the woodman, "if you mean the knave Weinants."
"I mean no other," answered Lord Chartley; "but however to my tale;" and he proceeded to relate all that had occurred that night in the wood. "I did not follow the man, I pretended to follow," he continued, "because I knew that was in vain. He had got too far away from me; and, moreover, had I caught him, what could I have done? I have no power over Sir Charles Weinant's servants, and he had but to name his lord, and plead his orders, and my authority was at an end; but as the good lady abbess was very confident she could, by your help, insure our friend's safety, even should the abbey be searched, I came hither to make myself more sure, by talking with you myself."
While the young nobleman had been speaking, the woodman had risen up, with a somewhat eager and anxious eye, but continued gazing upon him, without interrupting him, till he had done.