“Sir Arthur, look at this,” she Said.

He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully.

“Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the walls,” said he.

“Read it.”

“Yes, well—­so, so.  ’Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and under sentence of death of the King’s Bench.  The same Law escaped from Newgate prison on the night of’—­hum—­well—­well—­’May be known by this description:  Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks.  Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty.  Speaketh broad and loud.’  How—­how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last proof that thou’rt stark, staring mad!  This no more tallies with the true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!”

“And but few would know him by this description?”

“None, absolutely none.”

“None could tell ’twas he, even did they meet him full face to face—­no one would know it was Mr. Law?”

“Why, assuredly not.  ’Tis as unlike him as it could be.”

“Then it is well!” said Lady Catharine.

“Well?  Very badly done, I should say.”

“Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits?  ’Tis very well because ’tis very ill, this same description.”

“Ah, ha!” said he, a sudden light dawning upon him.  “Then you mean to tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?”

“What would you think?”

“Did you do this work yourself?”

“Guess for yourself.  Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty imagination, ere he took to finance.  If he and the poet Prior could write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague—­or Prior—­or some one else—­have conceived this description of Mr. Law?”

The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands.  “’Tis like a play,” said he.  “And surely the play of fortune ever runs well enough for Mr. Law.”

“Sir Arthur,” said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before him, “I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law.  I have come to you for aid.  Sir Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful.”

The young man also rose and began to pace the floor.

“Even did Law escape,” he began, “it would mean only his flight from England.”

“True,” said the Lady Catharine, “that is all planned.  The ship even now awaits him in the Pool.  He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison, and he sails at once from England.  He goes to France.”

“But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you.”

“Of course, it means our parting.”

“Oh, but you said—­but I thought—­”

“But I said—­but you thought—­Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating like a little boy!”

“You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he escapes from Newgate?”