"And then, Golding?"
"Then! Well, I'm no judge of women, but it seems to me that once they're fond of flattery you can make them do almost anything. She was a good-looking girl, was Harriet Payne, and if some young slip of a dandy got hold of her—well, she might make a bargain with him and get released that way."
"Was she that kind of girl?"
"I'm not saying so; I'm only putting it as a possibility," Golding answered. "Such bargains have been made, Master Gilbert, if the tales they tell be true."
Crosby clenched his teeth suddenly, and struck his fist irritably on his knee. One such tale he had heard, told of the brutal Colonel Kirke, a woman's honour sacrificed to save her lover, and sacrificed in vain. He was prepared to believe any villainy of such a man, and there were many, little better than Kirke, free to work their will in the West Country to-day. He was conscious of the ribbon about his neck, he remembered that handclasp in the hidden chamber below Aylingford Abbey, and thanked Heaven that the fair woman who had done so much to help him was in London.
"Such thoughts make me sick, Golding," he said after a long pause. "I feel that I must rush into the midst of such villains and strike, strike until I am cut down. Sometimes there comes the belief that if a man had the courage to charge boldly into such iniquity, God Himself would fight beside him and give him victory."
"There peeps out the Puritan faith of your fathers, Master Gilbert. It's a good faith, but over confident of miracles. You'd be foolish throwing your life away trying the impossible when there is so much you are able to do well."
"I argued like that only a few hours since," said Crosby. "But, for all that, there's a taste of cowardice left behind in the mouth. I should have been back early this afternoon but for the fact that this troop I spoke of was still hanging about the highway yonder."
"They did not see you!" Golding said in alarm. "They will not track you here?"
"They were not watching for me. I take it the men were ordered not to follow us beyond Witley, but to wait for other prey that was expected. I did not see how it happened, nor where, only the result. They had captured a coach, and were guarding it on the way to Dorchester. What unfortunate travellers it contained I do not know, I was at too great a distance to see. But in the midst of the villains there was a captured horseman, and they seemed to be ill-treating him. I touched the mare with the spur, thinking to go to his aid, but drew rein again immediately. There was at least a score of men to 'do battle with."