“Why, Master Cale, Lord Claud was but visiting his friends at St. Albans, far enough away from where they say the robbery took place.  He will have no trouble in proving that he was never two miles from St. Albans upon that night; and I was with him the whole time, sharing his room and his company.”

“Well, well, well,” answered Cale, with a look of some relief, “I would never willingly believe harm of any man.  But there are more strange tales flying about with regard to yon Lord Claud than about almost any other man in town; and folks say that many a likely lad, dashing and brave, has become confederate for a time with him, and has then vanished no man knows whither.  I would not that such a fate should befall you, Tom.”

A slight shiver ran through Tom’s frame.  He felt that there was an ugly suggestion in these words.  How easily might some disastrous turn of fortune’s wheel that other night have left him a victim upon those fields instead of the gallant horse who carried him!  How skilfully and easily had Lord Claud played upon him, prompting him to an act which a few months ago he would have shrunk from in the greatest horror!  There was something almost diabolic in the beauty, the fascination, the cleverness, of the man.  Tom made a resolution, as these things flashed through his mind, that he would have no more dealings with him, if this was what they led to.  He even began to doubt now whether it was true that he had applied in vain for the reward promised them for their secret service expedition.  It might all be a part of a preconcerted plan, in order to cajole Tom into thinking he had some sort of right to act as they had done with regard to this money.

He began to feel doubts of everything now, and above all of himself.  Had he been made a tool of and a dupe?  And was he walking blindfold into a net ready for his feet?

He slept but restlessly upon his bed that night, revolving many things in his mind, and almost resolving to see Lord Claud no more, but to adopt a new method of life in this wonderful city, albeit he scarcely knew what that life should be.

Tom’s hot blood had been fired by the adventures of the past months; his vanity had been flattered by the success which he had met with; his self confidence (always rather too strong) had grown and increased with great rapidity.  He felt that without adventure and peril of some sort life would be tame and flat.  To live as Master Cale lived, a quiet uneventful life of honest toil, seemed repugnant to him.  Even to do as Harry Gay did, and pass the time in wandering between coffee houses and the play, or taking a wherry and rowing hither and thither on the great river, or walking or riding into the country—­all this now seemed to him tame and tiresome.

He turned and tossed upon his bed, wondering what had come to him, and what life held in store for him.  He thirsted for adventure, for the excitements and perils which he had experienced of late.  His blood tingled at the memories he conjured up of those things he had passed through—­the strife of arms, the fierce joy of battle, the breathless gallops from pursuing foes, and the hairbreadth perils they had come through.