"
"I have heard, mistress, of a great noble who wore fool's motley that he
might the better stand between his King and danger. I have heard of one
who lay bound in chains for years that his friend might be saved. Men
have died for others ever since this world was young."
"True, Martin."
"So Galloping Hermit may have some purpose which, did we but know it,
would make him a hero to crown rather than a scoundrel to hang. His
heart may beat honestly; the eyes which looked from these holes--"
"Were grey, Martin," and there was a catch in Barbara's voice which her
companion was quick to notice.
"Courage, mistress, the beam of light is still shining. We must get rid
of this."
"No, give it me. I may see him again and give it to him."
"And perhaps be mistaken after all," said Martin. "The highwayman has
long since provided himself with another mask, so we may destroy this."
"No, Martin."
"Why keep so dangerous a trifle? See, it burns."
He took the candle and the mask to the hearth, and made sure that no
tell-tale particle of the silk remained.
"Mistress, it is gone. Be wise, forget that you ever found it," and
Martin trampled the ashes into dust.
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