"Not so fast, Philpotts! Many a saint has had the ill luck to look like a pirate, and I was thrown in with a man in Algiers that I would have shared my last crust with, and he stole my wallet and made off with it in the night."
"Well, mebbe it's because I'm not of the quality and have no book learning, but when I feel things in my bones I don't question of them; and now my eyes are open and I see you're innocent, I'm going to help you out of this hole."
"But the danger—"
"To Hell with the danger! There never was a Philpotts yet was a coward."
"But your farm is well started here."
"Let it go to seed, then. It's little good there is for a Protestant in this Papist province, anyhow, and I'd not be sorry to be off to Virginia. I've a boat on the river below. So you see there's nothing between you and freedom."
"Yes, there is one thing."
"An' what's that, pray?"
As if in answer to the question came a rapid knock at the door outside. The guard grasped his musket and marched once or twice up and down the barn to recover his severe military bearing before he drew the door a crack open.
"Who goes there?"