Gerald sighed. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. “You need a reason. I spied a small picture of them in your house, though. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. ‘She wants you. Now, Sir," he added, turning to Jonathan, as Sir Cecil and his followers obeyed his injunctions, "you say you know the road which the person whom we seek has taken?" "I do," replied Jonathan. Conscientious objectors to that process are not permitted, she found, in Canongate. "Of course, therefore," pursued Jonathan, "you are acquainted with all the leaders of the proposed insurrection,—nay, must be in correspondence with them. Ennison will make a thousand enemies if he takes you from the stage.
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