the cry of "Stop him!" had changed as the shout passed to new voices,
into "Stop the thief!"--that cry yet howled in the distance. One of the
loungers seized him: Philip, desperate and ferocious, struck at him with
all his force; but the blow was scarcely felt by that Herculean frame.

"Pish!" said the man, scornfully; "I am no spy; if you run from justice,
I would help you to a sign-post."

Struck by the voice, Philip looked hard at the speaker. It was the voice
of the Accursed Son.

"Save me! you remember me?" said the orphan, faintly. "Ah! I think I
do; poor lad! Follow me-this way!" The stranger turned within the
tavern, passed the hall through a sort of corridor that led into a back
yard which opened upon a nest of courts or passages.

"You are safe for the present; I will take you where you can tell me all
at your ease--See!" As he spoke they emerged into an open street, and
the guide pointed to a row of hackney coaches. "Be quick--get in.
Coachman, drive fast to ---"

Philip did not hear the rest of the direction.

Our story returns to Sidney.




CHAPTER III.