So sudden had been my movement that I had caused the old man to stagger back, nevertheless he did not lose his footing, and when he caught sight of me, I thought I detected a desire on his part to rush through the open doorway. So, before he could take any such action, I closed the door with a loud noise—a noise which resounded through the great lonely building.

I could see that my entrance had astonished him. That he expected some one else was evident, and from the look in his eyes I knew that he had no knowledge nor suspicion as to who I was. He held a small oil lamp on the level of his head, by which means he caused its light to fall directly on my face. I saw, too, that his keen deep-set eyes rested on me as though he would read my thoughts, and I judged that he was at a loss how he should treat me.

"And so you would use your brute strength to enter the house of a lonely man, who desires only that he may seek to do the will of God," he said slowly, and I could have sworn that he was seeking to measure my strength and was calculating whether it would be wise to throw himself upon me.

I do not know why it was, but for answer I only laughed. Perhaps this was because the old man's voice had driven away the last vestige of superstitious fear.

"You are young for your trade, young master," he continued, still keeping his eyes steadily fixed on me, "and if my old eyes do not tell me falsely, you are ill fitted for it. Your face tells me that you should be an honest youth, not a roystering and lying housebreaker and highwayman. So leave me at once. I have naught of which you can rob me. Gold and silver have I none. I am simply a harmless old man who seeks to spend the rest of his days in communion with his thoughts and his Maker."

"Your age hath taught you but little wisdom, if it hath taught you that I am a footpad," I said. "Neither do I seek gold or silver."

"Then what do you seek?" he asked with a snarl.

"A quiet hour with you."

I saw him glance quickly around the entrance hall of the house in which we stood, as though he feared we were not alone. Then he took a step nearer to me.

"A quiet hour, young man?"

"Ay, a quiet hour."

"I tell you this," and his voice became bitter: "If you do not leave this house—nay, nay." He stopped as if to correct himself. "A quiet hour—ay, a quiet hour, that you shall have, young master. So quiet that you shall not even know when it hath come to an end, so quiet that the spirits of the dead which haunt this house shall scarcely know when you have entered their worshipful company."

By this time I saw that he had recovered from the surprise he had experienced at my entrance. His deep-set eyes rested steadily upon me, and he spoke like one in deep thought. I therefore watched him closely, for although he was an old man, he shewed no sign of feebleness. His eyes were keen and alert, and he moved with the activity of youth.

"But why wish you this quiet hour, young master?"

"To know many things which you can tell me," I answered boldly enough, although I was anything but light hearted.

"Ay, I will tell you of many things," he said quickly, "things that you will never repeat, my son, never, never, never."

He repeated the word as I have written it down with great solemnity, and for the last time between his set teeth and with terrible intensity.

"Did you take advice from any man before you sought admission within these walls, young master?" he went on, "Did you commend your soul to your Maker? Did you bid good-bye to all you hold most dear?"

"I did not do any of these things, Father Solomon," I answered as jauntily at I could.

"Thus you show your foolishness."

"That is as may be," I made answer.

"And what do you think will be the end of this visit?" he asked, and I thought his interest was growing in me.

"The end, Father Solomon?" I replied with a laugh. "The end will be that you will tell me what I wish to know, and then we shall say good-bye."

"You are but a youth," he said solemnly. "You are yet only on the threshold of life, therefore it grieves even me that you should be cut off before your prime. And yet I see no chance of your escape. You have entered the region of the departed dead, you have lifted to your lips the goblet of which lost souls drink. Still, I would save you if I could. If you will take the oath that I shall prescribe, an oath to the Prince of Darkness who reigns here, then may I be persuaded to allow you to depart without injury."

The man made me shiver as he spoke, but I had not come hither to be frightened before my work was begun. So I summoned up all my courage, and laughed in his face.

"You laugh!" he cried angrily, "but in an hour from now you shall hear only the laughter of devils. The only words of comfort that you shall hear shall come from the lips of hell-hags, who shall drag you deeper and deeper down into the caverns of darkness."

"Have done with this, Elijah Pycroft," I said quietly, for this threat made me feel that he was uttering only gipsy cant.

He started as I mentioned his name, but still he kept up the part which I believed he was trying to play.

"Come, power of darkness, and seize him," he cried, like one invoking some distant being; "tear his soul from his body, and drag it into eternal gloom!" Then turning to me, he said in a hoarse whisper, "Listen I do you not hear them coming? Fly ere it be too late."

"Let your powers of darkness come, Elijah," I said quietly, "but I tell you this: before they come there are certain things you will have to tell me."

"What things?" he snarled. "Tell me who you are? Tell me what you want?"

"All in good time," I said confidently, for by this time I began to enjoy the situation rather than to fear it; "but before I tell you aught let me go to your workshop, Master Elijah—the chamber where you keep your grinning skulls and your witch potions. For I have a great desire to enter that chamber. Ay, you must have rare doings there! Last night you received pretty women, and to-night you receive not women, but a man with a sword and pistols in his belt. Ay, and the pistols are loaded, Master Elijah, and I am a fair marksman."

"Very well," he said after a moment's thought. "On your own head be the curse of your acts. But wait here for one moment. I will e'en go and prepare the room for your coming."

"Nay, nay, we will go together," I replied. "I love your company so much that I cannot bear the thought of your departure."

As quietly as one could think, he had blown out the light, and I heard him rush away into the darkness. Had I hesitated a moment I should have lost him, but a ray of moonlight having penetrated the place, I was able to follow his movements. I caught him by the arm and held him fast.

"Unhand me, or you shall die!" he cried.

I held him at arm's length and, although he was an old man, I shook him, not so much as to hurt him, but enough to make him feel that he was not in the hands of a maid of eighteen.

"Do you not fear me?" he cried. "Do you not know that even now I hear the footsteps of the dead?"

"I do not fear you," I said, "but you fear me. Come, Master Elijah Pycroft, who hath been dead and is come to life again, lead me to the room where last night you received the woman called Constance."

He stood still, but I felt his body trembling.

"If you will not," I went on, "I shall begin to threaten. And, mark you, although you pretend to pity me as an ignorant boy, I will perform my threats."

"Ay, and what can you do?" he snarled. "In a minute from now the hell-hags which I have summoned from afar will be here, and then—ha, ha!"

"Before they can come I will e'en drag you through the Pycroft woods," I cried; "ay, and I will drag you to Folkestone town, and then, methinks, we shall see gay doings, Master Pycroft."

I meant what I said, for although I desired much to have quiet speech with him, he had angered me by his obstinacy and his threats. I think he felt this, too, for he said sullenly—

"It shall e'en be as you say."

"Then light your lamp again, Master Pycroft, or Father Solomon, whatever you may be pleased to call yourself," I said.

A minute later the lamp shone again, and then he ascended a broad stairway, I keeping close at his heels and ready for anything he might attempt to do. But he walked straight on. I think by this time he also had become interested to know more about the venturesome lad, whom he had not succeeded in frightening, and who had dared to hint that Elijah Pycroft had never died as had been given out to the world. Be that as it may, he uttered neither snarl nor threat as we threaded the long corridor through which he led me, and ere long we had entered the room of which I had taken such note the night before.

A candle still burnt here, which threw a ghostly light on the walls. I detected a strange odour coming from the fireplace, which, as I imagined, arose from the pot I had seen him put on the fire.

I closed the door behind me, and looked quickly around me. My nerves had now settled down to their normal experience, and, although I knew not why, I was enjoying the situation more than I can say. I knew, however, that I had need of all my wits, and that I must use great caution if I would obtain that for which I had set out.

The added light of the lamp to the candle made the room bright, and, noting that curtains hung by the window, I drew them across it whole the old man gazed at me in wonder.

"I wonder that one so old and wise as you does not exercise more caution," I said quietly.

For a minute neither of us did aught but gaze at each other. He doubtless trying to recall some fact which might give him some clue to my identity and tell him why I had dared to come hither, while I noted his every feature, and wondered at the strange life he led.

He was clothed in a long loose flannel gown which hung from his shoulders to his feet, and which was confined to his waist by a cord. Altogether it was a kind of monkish attire. On his feet were shoes made of cloth, the which enabled him to walk almost noiselessly. He had never been a tall man, and now that age had somewhat diminished his form and his head had sunk low into his shoulders, he appeared what he really was, a shrivelled up old man, though hale and hearty withal.

Presently I thought he listened keenly, as though he expected the approach of some one, and once I thought he seemed on the point of crying out.

"I think it will be well to forget all about the witches and powers of darkness," I said quietly. "I can assure you they will not come. Rather let us talk quietly together."

I longed to know what was in his mind, but his face became blank as I spoke, so that I could read nothing.

"Well, ask your question," he said; "it will not be long now."

"Very well," I replied, "I will ensure our being undisturbed."

I had noticed an old iron bolt in the door, also a stout staple driven into the doorpost. I therefore quietly bolted the door.

"There," I said, "if the witches come it will take them time to get in."

He seemed more than ever discomfited at my coolness. He had been so long undisturbed that he seemed to wonder at any one daring to come to him in such a way.

"Well, what do you want to know?" he said helplessly. Then he added, "But let me tell you this: I know nothing."

"Who is this woman called Constance?" I asked.

At this his face became relieved. "Ha! ha!" he cried. "A lover, eh? He traced the fair Constance hither, and now his love makes him so brave that he dares to meet the ghost of Pycroft. But Constance is not for you, lad. She hath her duties as a wife—eh, a wife!"

"Wife or maid, who is she?"

"How do I know? I who—who——" here he relapsed into silence.

"But you will know before I leave this room," I made answer. "Also, you will tell me other things."

"What other things?"

"Among them, why you live here, and what you hide here."

"And if I will not tell you?"

"There is an old adage that a wizard is ten times worse than a witch, and many a witch hath died during these last twenty years. When King Charles comes to England it will be easy to prove that an old man at Pycroft Hall hath a familiar spirit."

"King Charles!" he cried, and his old eyes sparkled. "Am I afraid of King Charles? I will claim a secret audience with King Charles, and in two short minutes King Charles will obey me like a child."

"Obey you?"

"Ay, obey me. Now, then, do your worst. Fool that I was to be duped by a puling boy like thee, but since I have been a fool, I will e'en pay for it. Thou canst tell thy story—ay, thou canst drag me to Folkestone town. Well, what then? Suppose the ignorant fools which inhabit this countryside cry out for my death? Well, listen—I am Elijah Pycroft—a gentleman, and I can claim to have an ear of the king. And then it will be even as I say. Even King Charles will do the will of old Elijah Pycroft."

He had cast aside all his claims to the supernatural, and had become the clever scheming old man.

"I know what you mean," I replied quietly, "But the thing by which you think to obtain the mastery over the new king doth not exist."

He started to his feet like a man bereft of his senses.

"Doth not exist? What do you mean?"

"Oh, I have seen the mother of Lucy Walters," I replied.

"Thou hast seen——!" he stopped suddenly, his deep-set eyes darting angry glances at me and his body trembling with passion.

"Ay, I have seen her; but it is no use. Do you think that Charles Stuart would ever wed such as she?"

"But he did, he did!" he cried, carried away by his passion. "And what is more, I have proof of it—and——" Again he ceased speaking suddenly. I saw that he had said more than he intended. Now this was the point to which I had aimed to bring him, and I tried to take him further.

"A vain boast," I said. "Where is it, if it exists?"

"Where you will never see it. But stay, tell me who you are? By what means did you obtain knowledge of these things?"

"I have seen a man having a wondrous likeness to Sir Charles Denman," I replied, drawing a bow at a venture.

"Ay, and he sent his pretty Constance to me. He thought to befool me with his ill-thought-out plans—me who learnt wisdom before he was born. Ay, and you saw the pretty Constance too, did you? But she hath told you naught, no—she hath told you naught. How could she? He did not know, she did not know, and you, you do not know."

He laughed like a man in great glee; nevertheless I saw that his eyes were full of fear. Twenty years before he would have been a strong resolute man, whom it would have been difficult to bend, but now age had dimmed his powers and made him incapable of grasping wide issues.

"If you know where it is—tell me," I said, making a false step, as I knew before the words had escaped my lips.

"Ah, now I see why you have come! Ha, ha! What fools men are! You think crowns are played for with plans no weightier than boys' dice, do you? Oh, I know what I know."

"So do I," I said, trying to bluff him.

"And what do you know?" he questioned eagerly.

"Since you are so chary of imparting knowledge, so will I be," I said quietly. "Doubtless you are an old player, Master Pycroft, therefore you know it takes two to make a game. Besides, great enterprises are dangerous when they are taken alone."

"Ah, like Sir Charles, you would go into partnership with me. And I laugh at him, laugh at him! Oh, I have more at stake than you know, young master. Therefore think you I make terms with a nameless boy?"

"I think you will," I replied.

Again he stared at me incredulously. I could see that he was wondering who I was and how much I knew.

"My armour is invulnerable," he cried, "invulnerable, I tell you. You may do your worst, but I can gain the ear of the king, and then—pouf!—what can you do?"

"In two days the king may land at Dover," I replied. "What is to hinder me from going to the king, and saying to him, 'Sire, an old man who lives at Pycroft professes to have proof that you married Lucy Walters: by this means he hopes to have power over you.' What do you think the king will say? What will he do?"

His eyes burned with mad anger, but he saw that I was on guard; he saw, too, that I was young and lithe and strong.

"But you would not do this?" he cried.

"Why not?" I asked quietly.

"But what could he do?" he asked almost helplessly.

"That depends," I replied. "If the thing is true, he will take summary measures with Master Elijah Pycroft. He would know that the proof of such an event would throw the country into civil war. Lucy Walters' son lives at Paris, and if the marriage can be proved he is the next heir to the English throne. But what would that mean? You know, Father Solomon. Besides, think you that James, Duke of York, would be idle? Then let us suppose the thing is not true. Do you think Charles Stuart would take no steps to punish the man who gave birth to such a lie?"

He sat with his chin resting on his chest for some time without speaking. Occasionally he would take a furtive glance at me, and again he seemed to be trying to understand the bearings of what I had said.

"Would you do this?" he asked again presently.

"When one can do a thing, there is always a danger that he will," I replied.

Again he gave me a searching glance, and again he seemed to be trying to see his way through a difficulty.

"Tell me what interest you have in all this?" he said presently.

"Oh, I am a young blood on the look-out for adventures," I replied.

He saw that I had not answered him fully, and it was not difficult to believe that he suspected me of having an interest in the matter which I had not revealed to him. After all, a man would not come to him in such a way as I had come without sufficient reason, and it was not likely that he would reveal to me a valuable secret simply because I had asked for it. On the other hand, he had seen that I was not to be frightened easily, nor to be put off with a weak excuse. I had done what others had not dared to do. I had entered a house of evil omen at a time when others would not dare to approach it. For although through my father's training I had been able to make light of the stories I had heard, there can be no doubt that tales such as I have told about Pycroft were believed by both gentle and simple alike. More than one house in England was tenantless at this time because of its ill fame, and tales of the appearances of the departed dead were believed in by both clergy and people alike. Such Catholic priests as were in England taught people to believe in such things, while even the Puritan and Presbyterian clergy gave credence to belief in the power of the devil and his emissaries. For years Pycroft Hall had been neglected and avoided; and thus it was no light matter that I had dared to try and penetrate its secrets, and I doubt not that the old man weighed these matters well, as he furtively glanced at me from beneath his overhanging brows and shaggy eyebrows.

At last he seemed to have made up his mind to something. He rose suddenly to his feet, gazed furtively around the room as if he even suspected that some one might be near, and then came up close to me.

"Let us understand each other, young master," he said.

"That is well," I replied, as I waited for him to proceed.