"Nay, sir Captain, I said not that I did not know of her. But why do
you ask? I desire not any harm to the maiden; for she hath been good to
me."
"Harm?" said he. "What do you take me for? I am commanded to deliver
her a jewel, bequeathed by her step-dame, and if you refuse to answer
me, it is not I but you who do her harm."
"Your pardon," said I, "but there be so many evil-disposed persons in
the world, and the maiden is so very fair."
"Come," said he, getting impatient, "where is she?"
"Alas!" said I, "she is not here. I heard of her indeed not long since
in Kent."
"Yes, and where?" he asked, getting excited.
"'Twas in Canterbury, where she hid from a villain, one Captain
Merriman."
He looked at me hard; but I looked so simple, and fingered the money so
greedily, he suspected naught.
"Where is she now?" he asked again.
"Look you, Captain," said I, getting close with him, "if you truly mean
well by this maiden, I shall tell you where to look for her. Only you
must keep it secret, and, above all things, tell it not to this Captain
Merriman, who is a very devil, and whom I would like to split with my
sword, could I catch him."
"Yes, yes," said he, eagerly, "I know him not--where is she?"
"In faith," whispered I, "if you seek her, you must be quick, for a week
hence she may be flown."
"Where is it?" he asked, impatiently.
"'Tis--but the name slips me. Yet, your patience, Captain, I have a
paper I will fetch."
And I left him and wrote hurriedly on a paper.
"_Pont-Marie, at Calais in France_."
"Look you, Captain," said I, "you are to go to the place named here.
'Tis across seas, in France. I can tell you no better than this paper.
I pray you breathe not to the maiden, if you see her, that 'twas I told
you where to look for her; for she would be vexed, as would others I
know of. And to prove I am honest, here, take thy purse; for I will
never touch it till you tell me you have found her and given her the
jewel. As for thy service, I will think of that betwixt now and the day
I see you again. Therefore, I pray you, appoint no servant meanwhile.
And remember, not a word to the maiden how you came to find her."
He took me for a simple fool, and went off very content with the paper
in his pocket, and leaving the purse with me. So I knew I was rid of
him and his fellow dog, Merriman, for well-nigh two weeks; and by that
time the maiden and her party would be beyond all reach. As to what
would happen when they returned from their trip,--well, I had two hands
and a sword as well as others.
But whether they came back or not, I know not; for weeks went by, and I
forgot all about them, when one night, as my master and I worked
secretly, with closed door, at the press, I feeling very desolate to
know that the whole house was empty, and that were I to open the parlour
door, there would meet me no merry note of singing from a sweet voice
within--while we worked thus, I say, there came a rustling at the
threshold, and presently a piece of paper was thrust under the door. By
the dim rush light we took and read it. It said simply this--
_Have a care, Walgrave! The Wolfe prowleth o' nights_.
"What make you of that?" asked I of my master.
"It comes from a friend," said he, "with evil news. For ever since this
greedy John Wolfe was appointed beadle of the Company in room of Timothy
Ryder, he hath had a jealous eye on me; and being an old offender
himself, he is like to have no terms with others who do as he once did.
Humphrey, our hands are too far gone in this business to pull back now;
therefore, Wolfe or no Wolfe, we must end it."
"And how?" said I; "since he will be here to-morrow, and find two
presses where there should be but one; and the libels hanging here yet
damp from the printing?"
"He must find neither," said my master. "We have time yet to give him
the slip."
Then he told me how it was arranged, should this mischance befall, which
he had expected long since, that the secret press and stuff pertaining
to it, should be removed to Mistress Crane's house near the Dowgate
(where Mistress Walgrave now lodged), and thence taken secretly to her
country house at Moulsey. And since there was no time to lose, we set-
to then and there to take the press to pieces and bestow it and the
printed sheets in barrels, which, when all was done, my master bade me
trundle to the river's edge and place on a wherry, and so convey to
Dowgate.
The which, with much sweat and labour, I accomplished, and about eight
of the clock next morning delivered them at Mistress Crane's house, who
asked no question, but gave me a sixpence for my pains, and bade me
return at once the way I came.
Now, you must know, so soon as I was back in my boat, I pitched that
sixpence into the Thames. For although, to please Jeannette's step-
father, and because I wished well to my Church, I had lent myself to
this business, I liked it not, and remembered it each day in my prayers
as a thing to be forgiven. So that I could not take Mistress Crane's
sixpence, and hoped the throwing of it away would stand somewhat to my
favour when all was reckoned up.
I had not been an hour at work that morning, when in comes John Wolfe
with hungry maw, and demands to search the house. Which my master
craftily tried to put him off; thereby making John the more sure that he
was on a right scent. At last Master Walgrave yielded and bade him take
his will. So after overlooking the usual room, and finding naught there
disorderly, he walks me with a smack of his lips to where the reams
stood piled on the secret door. And with great labour and puffing he
and his men set-to to move them, with no help from us. And the door
being thus uncovered, he calls for a light and goes below.
Now, my master, whether of purpose or by chance, so soon as the cellar
had been cleared the night before, had let run some water over the
floor, which, by standing there, had made a pretty slough in the place.
And Master Wolfe, not knowing as well as we did that the bottom step of
the ladder was a-wanting, and being encumbered with his candle, fell
flat on his face into the mire, and lay there spitting and kicking a
round five minutes before we above had the good fortune to hear him.
I went below to help him up--and it was sad to see so great a man in so
brave a livery so befouled! Instead of thanking me for my pains he
vowed this was a trick put on him, and that some he knew of should smart
for it. But for all that he found neither press, nor forme, nor printed
sheet contrary to regulation, no, not by searching the whole house over,
even to my sweet Jeannette's deserted chamber.
When he inquired where Mistress Walgrave and the children were gone, my
master bade him go packing, and concern himself with his own business
and not hinder honest men in theirs. So John Wolfe and we parted not
too good friends; he threatening to be even with us yet; and we bidding
him go wash his face and get a change of raiment.
"Twas in good time we were warned," said my master, after he was gone.
"Yet still am I in a great strait. For what can a press and paper do,
if we have no type? I durst not use this I have here, for it will be
known. And from no one else can I borrow it, for those that be not
jealous of me are too timid of his Grace to lend letter for such a
cause. Humphrey, type I must have, if not from at home from abroad."
"What!" said I. "From whom abroad will you get any?"
"My wife hath kinsmen in the town of Rochelle, who be printers. I have
had type of them already, but not enough."
"But how will you get it now?" I asked. "Who will fetch it?"
"I think you will, Humphrey," said he.
"I!" I cried. "No, master. I would serve you in much, but I cannot in
this; for I am bound to stay here, by an oath I would not break if I
could. Master, cost what it may, I will not go this errand."
Little knew I how soon I was to change my mind!