Harry judged, by the conversations which he had with his host, that the latter was not sanguine as to the success of the negotiations which he was carrying on.
"If," he said, "the king could obtain one single victory, his friends would raise their heads, and would assuredly be supported by the great majority of the population, who wish only for peace; but so long as the armies stood facing each other, and the Puritans are all powerful in the Parliament and Council of the city, men are afraid to be the first to move, not being sure how popular support would be given." One evening after work was over Harry and Jacob walked together up the Cheap, and took their place among a crowd listening to a preacher at Paul's Cross.

He was evidently a popular character, and a large number of grave men, of the straitest Puritan appearance, were gathered round him.
"I wish we could play some trick with these somber-looking knaves," Jacob whispered.
"Yes," Harry said; "I would give much to be able to do so; but at the present moment I scarcely wish to draw attention upon myself." "Let us get out of this, then," Jacob said, "if there is no fun to be had.

I am sick of these long-winded orations." They turned to go, and as they made their way through the crowd, Harry trod upon the toe of a small man in a high steeple hat and black coat.
"I beg your pardon," Harry said, as there burst from the lips of the little man an exclamation which was somewhat less decorous than would have been expected from a personage so gravely clad.

The little man stared Harry in the face, and uttered another exclamation, this time of surprise.

Harry, to his dismay, saw that the man with whom he had come in contact was the preacher whom he had left gagged on the guardroom bed at Westminster.
"A traitor! A spy!" shouted the preacher, at the top of his voice, seizing Harry by the doublet.