But Cuthbert had no need to complete his sentence; both young men had started at once to their feet.

“Kate in peril!” cried Culverhouse, between his shut teeth; “then verily her husband must find his way to her side.”

“Petronella at the Cross Way House, exposed to alarm and attack!” cried Philip; “then must I be there to shelter and protect her.”

“We will forth this very night!” cried Culverhouse.  “I will to the house and get ready my servants to accompany me.”

“I will make all preparation here!” echoed Philip, “and only await my father’s return.

“Cuthbert, thinkest thou that they are in peril this very night?  Speak; tell us all!”

“I trow not,” answered Cuthbert with some decision, knowing that his object was well accomplished and that the Trevlyns would make all speed to leave London, yet scarcely himself wishing them to hurry off in the night like fugitives in fear for themselves.  “I am certain sure that no immediate peril hangs over them, or I should have been more urgently warned.  I would not have you hasten thus.  I trow it would more alarm the ladies to be aroused by you in the middle of the night than to see you come riding thither later in the day on the morrow.  Surely it would be better to wait for day.  The night is black and tempestuous; it will be hard to find the road.  Tomorrow with the first of the sunlight you may well ride forth.”

Culverhouse and Philip both saw the soundness and reasonableness of this counsel, and knew that their respective fathers would both concur in this opinion, though their own impatience chafed at the delay.

“And thou—­what wilt thou do thyself, Cuthbert?” asked Philip; “come with us to Cross Way House?”

Cuthbert hesitated a few moments, debating within himself what were best.  He had been warned on the one hand to flee the forest, on the other to flee the city.  If his mysterious gipsy friends were right, for him there was peril in both places.  But it certainly seemed to him that his own presence and company would add to the perils of his kinsmen; and his decision was speedily taken.

“I hope to join you there anon,” he said; “but I have something set my heart upon seeing this grand pageant when his Majesty shall open his Parliament on the fifth.  Methinks I will stay for that, and then perchance I will forth to the Cross Way House.”

He looked keenly at both his companions as he spoke, but neither face wore the least look of any secret intelligence.  He was certain that no whisper of the plot had reached their ears.

“Ay, do so, and come and tell us all,” said Culverhouse gaily.  “I had thought to be there myself, but I must to my Kate’s side.

“Philip, thy father will be something loath to leave London ere that day.  Thinkest thou that thou canst persuade him?”

“I trow I can,” answered Philip; and then they both turned on Cuthbert, asking him for a more detailed account of his search after and his discovery of the lost treasure, hanging with eager interest on his words.