"Ah! How?"
"He had to pay a visit in the neighbourhood of Endellion Castle, and he saw her by chance."
"Spoke he to her?"
"No, he did not; she did not see him. She is kept a close prisoner, but my Peter hath lost his heart."
I turned and looked at young Peter, and his face looked more monkeyish than ever. A simpering smile played around his protruding mouth. His eyes shone like those of a weazel.
"Well," I said, "what is this to me?"
"This, Roger Trevanion. I want that maid, Nancy Molesworth, brought here to Treviscoe. I want to save her from those Papist savages who would bring ruin upon the maid and upon the country."
"That's nothing to me," I replied; "I avoid women. They are all alike—all cruel, all selfish, all false as hell. Why tell your plans to me?"
"Because," cried young Peter, "if you will bring the sweet maid, Nancy Molesworth, to Treviscoe, you shall have the Trevanion deeds back. I will destroy this paper you gave to Prideaux, and we will forgive a large part of the money you have had from us." And he named a fairly liberal sum.