She drew me off into the wood at a sharp angle, and we began to climb beneath the branches.  They dripped on us, soaking us to the skin; but this we scarcely felt.  We knew that we must be moving along the narrow interval between the two lines of outposts.  Beneath us, in the centre of a basin of fog, a cluster of lights marked Lostwithiel:  above, the moon and the glow of Royalist camp-fires threw up the outline of the ridge.  Alongside of this we kept, and a little below it, crossing the high-road which leads east from Lostwithiel bridge, and, beyond that, advancing more boldly under the lee of a hedge beside a by-road which curves towards the brow of Boconnoc downs.  I began to find it strange that, for all our secrecy, no one challenged us here.  At a bend of the lane, we came in view of a solitary cottage with one window lit and blurring its light on the mist.  We crept close, still on the far side of the hedge, and, parting the bushes, peered at it.

It must be here or hereabouts (by all information) that the Earl of Cleveland kept his quarters.  The light shone into our eyes through a drawn blind which told nothing; and Margery was dragging me forward to knock at the door when it opened and two men stepped quickly across the threshold and passed down the lane.  They crossed the bar of light swiftly and were gone into the dark; and they trod softly—­so softly that we listened in vain for their footfalls.

Then, almost before I knew it, Margery had dragged me across a gap in the hedge and was rapping at the cottage door.  No one answered.  She lifted the latch and entered, I at her heels.  The kitchen—­an ordinary cottage kitchen—­was empty A guttered candle stood on the table to the right, and beside it lay a feathered cap.  Margery stepped toward this and had scarce time to touch the brim of it before a voice hailed us in the doorway behind my shoulder.

“Hullo!”

It was our brother Mark.

“Well, of all—­” he began, and came to a stop; his face white as a sheet, as well it might be.

Margery rounded upon him.  She must have been surprised, but she began without explanation running to him and kissing him swiftly—­

“Mark—­dear Mark, we have news for thee, instant news!  Sure, Heaven directed us to-night that you should be the first to hear it.  Mark, we passed the rebel cavalry in the valley, and for certain they will attempt to break through to-night.”

“Yes, yes,” said he peevishly, pulling at an end of his long love-locks, “we have had that scare often enough, these last few nights.”

“But we passed them close—­saw them plainly in rank below Lostwithiel bridge, and every man in saddle.  Even now they will be moving—­”

Mark swung about and passed out at the open door.  He had not returned Margery’s kiss.  “I must be off, then, to visit my videttes,” said he quickly, and then paused as if considering.  “For you, the cottage here will not be safe:  it stands close beside the line of march and I must get down a company of musketeers.  You had best follow me—­” he took a step and paused again:  “No, there will not be time.”