Saying these words rather slowly, he skewered his great eyes into mine, so that I could not think at all, neither look at him, nor yet away.  The idea was so new to me that it set my wits all wandering; and looking into me, he saw that I was groping for the truth.

“John Ridd, thine eyes are enough for me.  I see thou hast never dreamed of it.  Now hast thou ever seen a man whose name is Thomas Faggus?”

“Yes, sir, many and many a time.  He is my own worthy cousin; and I fear he that hath intentions”—­here I stopped, having no right there to speak about our Annie.

“Tom Faggus is a good man,” he said; and his great square face had a smile which showed me he had met my cousin; “Master Faggus hath made mistakes as to the title to property, as lawyers oftentimes may do; but take him all for all, he is a thoroughly straightforward man; presents his bill, and has it paid, and makes no charge for drawing it.  Nevertheless, we must tax his costs, as of any other solicitor.”

“To be sure, to be sure, my lord!” was all that I could say, not understanding what all this meant.

“I fear he will come to the gallows,” said the Lord Chief Justice, sinking his voice below the echoes; “tell him this from me, Jack.  He shall never be condemned before me; but I cannot be everywhere, and some of our Justices may keep short memory of his dinners.  Tell him to change his name, turn parson, or do something else, to make it wrong to hang him.  Parson is the best thing, he hath such command of features, and he might take his tithes on horseback.  Now a few more things, John Ridd; and for the present I have done with thee.”

All my heart leaped up at this, to get away from London so:  and yet I could hardly trust to it.

“Is there any sound round your way of disaffection to His Majesty, His most gracious Majesty?”

“No, my lord:  no sign whatever.  We pray for him in church perhaps, and we talk about him afterwards, hoping it may do him good, as it is intended.  But after that we have naught to say, not knowing much about him—­at least till I get home again.”

“That is as it should be, John.  And the less you say the better.  But I have heard of things in Taunton, and even nearer to you in Dulverton, and even nigher still upon Exmoor; things which are of the pillory kind, and even more of the gallows.  I see that you know naught of them.  Nevertheless, it will not be long before all England hears of them.  Now, John, I have taken a liking to thee, for never man told me the truth, without fear or favour, more thoroughly and truly than thou hast done.  Keep thou clear of this, my son.  It will come to nothing; yet many shall swing high for it.  Even I could not save thee, John Ridd, if thou wert mixed in this affair.  Keep from the Doones, keep from De Whichehalse, keep from everything which leads beyond the sight of thy knowledge.  I meant to use thee as my tool; but I see thou art too honest and simple.  I will send a sharper down; but never let me find thee, John, either a tool for the other side, or a tube for my words to pass through.”