Frederick Coventry, being still unacquainted with the contents of Grace's letter, was now almost desperate.

Grace Carden, inaccessible to an unknown workman, would she be inaccessible to a workman whom Mr.
Raby, proud as he was, had publicly recognized as his nephew?
This was not to be expected.

But something was to be expected, viz., that in a few days the door would be closed with scorn in the face of Frederick Coventry, the miserable traitor, who had broken his solemn pledge, and betrayed his benefactor to those who had all but assassinated him.
Little would be sure to suspect him, and the prisoner, when he came to be examined, would furnish some clew.
A cold perspiration bedewed his very back, when he recollected that the chief constable would be present at Cole's examination, and supply the link, even if there should be one missing.

He had serious thoughts of leaving the country at once.
Finding himself unobserved, he walked out of the room, and paced up and down the hall.
His thoughts now took a practical form.

He must bribe the prisoner to hold his tongue.
But how?
and when?
and where?
After to-night there might be no opportunity of saying a word to him.
While he was debating this in his mind, Knight the butler crossed the hall.
Coventry stopped him, and asked where the prisoner was.
"Where Squire told us to put him, sir." "No chance of his escaping--I hope ?" "Not he, sir.
"I should like to take a look at him." Knight demurred.