“I know what you would say.  How if you have suddenly to fly again?  How if aught should come to her ears?  Now listen, Tom, and I will tell you what I will do.  I loved your father.  I vowed in my heart that if ever the day should come that I could serve him, I would do so; and therefore I will do what I can for his son.  Hear me, Tom.  I have means of knowing many things.  I can set my scouts to work.  Therefore, go you home to your mother.  I will meantime set my men to the task.  I will communicate with Lord Claud.  If peril threaten, you shall have warning.  Tell your mother that the Duke of Marlborough may have need of you again for the secret service, and that at any moment you may be forced to quit the house suddenly and secretly.  Having made her understand that, enjoy your stay at home with a free heart.  I will undertake that you have four hours’ start of any pursuing foe.  If you receive message or token from me—­or from Lord Claud—­you will know what to do.  Take your horse, set spurs in her flanks, and draw not rein till you find yourself here once more.  Note the road as you fare forth, and return by it again.  You will find safety here—­and a friend.  This do, and you shall meantime be safe.”

Captain Jack had some of Lord Claud’s power of commanding confidence; and, indeed, in this case Tom felt a greater sense of security in the promise of this highway robber than in that of his mysterious friend and leader in London.

“I will go,” he said.  “I believe you.  I take you at your word.  I will return home to my mother and sister, and rejoice their hearts.  And there will I abide till I receive your message; after which I will fly back to the forest.  Captain Jack, I have that within me which tells me that I shall come back—­that my adventures are not ended yet.  But let me once more go home to those I love, and I ask nothing more.”

“You shall go, Tom Tufton, you shall go.  A mother’s happiness and her blessing are not things to be lightly thrown away.  Go, and I will keep watch.  Till you hear from me, you are safe.”

So Tom rode away in the gray light of dawn, and quickly finding himself in familiar haunts, put spurs to his good steed, and before noon found himself close beside the village which had been his home all his life till this past adventurous year of travel.

As he went clattering up the long avenue to the house, it seemed to him as though the birds of the air must have been at work; for there was his mother standing upon the steps to receive him, whilst Rachel was running towards him with flying feet.

“O Tom, Tom, Tom! we knew it could be no one but you!  O dearest Tom, so you have come home at last!”

He swung himself from the saddle, and put his arm about his sister.

“Yes, I have come home,” he said a little huskily, “come home to see you all once more.  The old place never changes—­nor you and my mother!”

“Why should we?” asked Rachel softly.