“This is my magic,” he said.  “John here does not like it; neither did poor Mr. Fenton when he was here; but I hold there is no harm in such things if one does but observe caution.”

“What do you do with them, sir?” inquired the priest curiously, for he was not sure whether the man was serious.

“Well, sir, I hold that God has written His will in the stars, and in the burning of herbs, and in the shining of the sun, and such things.  There is no black magic here.  But, just as we read in the sky at morning, if it be red or yellow, whether it will be foul or fair, so I hold that God has written other secrets of His in other things; and that by observing them and judging rightly we may guess what He has in store.  I knew that a prince was to die last year before ever it happened.  I knew that a fleet of ships will come to England this year, before ever an anchor is weighed.  And I would have you notice that here are Mr. FitzHerbert and your Reverence, too, fleeing for your lives; and here sit I safe at home; and all, as I hold, because I have been able to observe by my magic what is to come to pass.”

“But that strikes at the doctrine of free-will,” cried the priest.

“No, sir; I think it does not.  God’s foreknowledge doth not hinder the use of our free-will (which is a mystery, no doubt, yet none the less true).  Then why should God’s foreknowledge any more hinder our free-will, when He chooses to communicate it to us?”

Robin was silent.  He knew little or nothing of these things, except from his theological reading.  Yet he felt uneasy.  The other said nothing.

“And the stars, too?” he asked.

“I hold,” said Mr. Bassett, “that the stars have certain influences and powers upon those that are born under their signs.  I do not hold that we are so ruled by these that we have no action of our own, any more than we are compelled to be wet through by rain or scorched by the sun:  we may always come into a house or shelter beneath a tree, and thus escape them.  So, too, I hold, with the stars.  There is an old saying, sir:  ’The fool is ruled by his stars; the wise man rules them.’  That is, in a nutshell, my faith in the matter.  I have told Mr. Fenton’s fortune here, and Mr. FitzHerbert’s, only they will never listen to me.”

Robin looked round the room.  It was dark outside long ago; they had supped at sunset, and sat for half an hour over their banquet of sweetmeats and wine before coming upstairs.  And the room, too, was as dark as night, except where far off in the west, beyond the tall trees of the park, a few red streaks lingered.  He felt oppressed and miserable.  The place seemed to him sinister.  He hated these fumblings at locks that were surely meant to remain closed.  Yet he did not know what to say.  Mr. John had wandered off to one of the windows and was humming uneasily to himself.

Then, suddenly, an intense curiosity overcame him.