“Yes,” said Foster, “I expect its something like that.  But where have you been?”

“Roon’ the toon, though it’s no’ verra big or bonnie.  Then I stopped a bit in the bar o’ the ither hotel.  Sixpence goes some way, if ye stick to beer.”

“I hope you didn’t say much if there were strangers about.”

Pete grinned.  “I said a’ I could; aboot the sheep and bullocks we were going to look at up Bellingham way; but, if it’s only comfort, there’s no strangers in the place but a commaircial who deals with the grossers and anither who got a good order from the colliery.  Maybe that’s worth the money for the beer!”

“It certainly is,” Foster agreed.  “We’ll have a reckoning at the end of the journey, but here’s your sixpence.”  Then he looked at his watch.  “Well, I think it’s late enough to go to bed, and you can order breakfast.  We had better get off as soon as it’s light.”

“There’s a train to Hexham at nine o’clock, the morn.  It might suit ye to start for the station, even if ye dinna’ get there.”

“No,” said Foster thoughtfully.  “We’ll pull out by some by-road before that.  You see, the train comes from Newcastle.”

He went to his room, which was next to Pete’s, and after putting the letters under his pillow quietly moved a chest of drawers against the door.  The lock was a common pattern and could probably be opened by a key from any of the neighboring rooms.  He was half-ashamed of this precaution, but admitted that he was getting nervous.  Hitherto he had found some amusement in leaving a trail for his pursuers, but there was a difference now.  For all that, he slept soundly until he was awakened by a noise at the door.  It was dark and somebody was trying to get in.  Seizing his pistol, he leaned on one elbow, ready to spring out of bed, and then felt keen relief as he heard Pete say, “Dinna’ keep on knocking!  Leave the hot water outside.”

“Yes; put it down, thanks,” said Foster, who got up, feeling angry with himself.

It looked as if the person outside had been knocking for some time, and the landlord’s curiosity might have been excited had he heard that his guest had barricaded his door.  Dressing by gaslight, he found breakfast ready when he went down, and day broke soon after the meal was over.  Foster paid his bill and set off with Pete, taking the main road west until they reached the end of the village, where some men were working on a colliery bank.  Pete indicated a lane that branched off to the north.

“Yon’s our way, but I’m thinking we’ll gang straight on for a bit.”

They followed the main road until the men were out of sight, and then crossing some fields, turned into the lane they had passed, which rose steadily to higher ground.  After a time they found another road running straight towards the west.  This was the old military road, made when the Romans built the Pict’s wall, and long afterwards repaired by General Wade, who tried to move his troops across to intercept Prince Charlie’s march.  Foster sat down for a few minutes at the corner and looked back at the distant chimney-stacks and trails of smoke.