V

Sunday morning dawned; the bells pealed out; the crowds went by the church and came back to dinner; and yet no word had come to the inn.  Robin scarcely stirred out all that day for fear a summons should come and he miss it.  He feigned a little illness and sat wrapped up in the corner window of the parlour upstairs, whence he could command both roads—­that which led to the Castle, and that which led to the bridge over which Mr. Beale must come.  He considered it prudent also to do this, because of the fellow of whom Merton had told him—­a man that looked like a groom, and who was lent, he heard, with one or two others by his master to do service at the Castle.

Robin’s own plan had been distinct ever since M. de Preau had brought him the first message.  He bore himself, as has been said, assuredly and confidently; and if he were questioned would simply have said that he had business connected with the Castle.  This, asserted in a proper tone, would probably have its effect.  There was so much mystery, involving such highly-placed personages from the Queen of England downwards, that discretion was safer than curiosity.

* * * * *

It was growing towards dark when Robin, after long and fruitless staring down the castle road, turned himself to the other.  The parlour was empty at this hour except for himself.

He saw the group gathering as usual at the entrance to the bridge to watch the arrivals from London, who, if there were any, generally came about this time.

Then, as he looked, he saw two horsemen mount the further slope of the bridge, and come full into view.

Now there was nothing whatever about these two persons, in outward appearance, to explain the strange effect they had upon the priest.  They could not possibly be the party for which he was watching.  Mr. Beale would certainly come with a great company.  They were, besides, plainly no more than serving-men:  one wore some kind of a livery; the other, a strongly-built man who sat his horse awkwardly, was in new clothes that did not fit him.  They rode ordinary hackneys; and each had luggage strapped behind his saddle.  All this the priest saw as they came up the narrow street and halted before the inn door.  They might, perhaps, be servants of Mr. Beale; yet that did not seem probable as there was no sign of a following party.  The landlord came out on to the steps beneath; and after a word or two, they slipped off their horses wearily, and led them round into the court of the inn.

All this was usual enough; the priest had seen such arrivals a dozen times at this very door; yet he felt sick as he looked at them.  There appeared to him something terrible and sinister about them.  He had seen the face of the liveried servant; but not of the other:  this one had carried his head low, with his great hat drawn down on his head.  The priest wondered, too, what they carried in their trunks.