“Who would ever be the wiser?  I was going to propose it last time, only I was not sure of you then; but, now that you are in it as deep as I am—­deeper, indeed, for he put you here specially to look after this youngster—­your interest in the matter is as great as mine.”

The Jew was silent for some time, then he said: 

“He has got papers at home which would bring me to the gallows.”

“Pooh!” the other said.  “You do not suppose that, when it is found that he does not return, and his heirs open his coffers, they will take any trouble about what there may be in the papers there, except such as relate to his money.  I will warrant there are papers there which concern scores of men besides you, for I know that Ben Soloman likes to work with agents he has got under his thumb.  But, even if all the papers should be put into the hands of the authorities, what would come of it?  They have got their hands full of other matters, for the present, and with the Swedes on their frontier, and the whole country divided into factions, who do you think is going to trouble to hunt up men for affairs that occurred years ago?  Even if they did, they would not catch you.  They have not got the means of running you down that Ben Soloman has.

“I tell you, man, it must be done.  There is no other way out of it.”

“Well, Conrad, if we cannot find this fellow before Ben Soloman comes, I am with you in the business.  I have been working for him on starvation pay for the last three years, and hate him as much as you can.”

When they reached the hut they cooked a meal, and then prepared to keep alternate watch.

Charlie slept quietly all night, and, in the morning, remained in his hiding place until he heard, in the distance, the sound of a horse’s tread.  Then he went out and sat down, leaning against a tree by the side of the path, in an attitude of exhaustion.

Presently he saw Ben Soloman approaching.  He got up feebly, and staggered a few paces to another tree, farther from the path.  He heard an angry shout, and then Ben Soloman rode up, and, with a torrent of execrations at the carelessness of the watchers, leapt from his horse and sprang to seize the fugitive, whom he regarded as incapable of offering the slightest resistance.

Charlie straightened himself up, as if with an effort, and raised his cudgel.

“I will not be taken alive,” he said.

Ben Soloman drew his long knife from his girdle.  “Drop that stick,” he said, “or it will be worse for you.”

“It cannot be worse than being tortured to death, as you said.”

The Jew, with an angry snarl, sprang forward so suddenly and unexpectedly that he was within the swing of Charlie’s cudgel before the latter could strike.  He dropped the weapon at once, and caught the wrist of the uplifted hand that held the knife.

The Jew gave a cry of astonishment and rage, as they clasped each other, and he found that, instead of an unresisting victim, he was in a powerful grasp.  For a moment there was a desperate struggle.