“As for your reverence, I am of opinion that you had best wait another week where you are.  There has been a man or two seen hereabouts whom none knew, as well as at Padley.  It hath been certified, too, that Mr. Thomas was at the root of it all, that he gave the information that Mr. John and at least a priest or two would be at Padley at that time, though no man knows how he knew it, unless through servants’ talk; and since Mr. Thomas knows your reverence, it will be better to be hid for a little longer.  So, if you will, in a week from now, I will send Dick once, again to tell you if all be well.  I look for no letter back for this since you have nothing to write with in the hut, as I know; but Dick will tell me how you do; as well as anything you may choose to say to him.

“I ask your reverence’s blessing again.  I do not forget your reverence in my poor prayers.”

* * * * *

And so it ended, without signature—­for safety’s sake.

IV

Robin looked up when he had finished to where the faint outline of the servant could be seen behind the lantern, against the greater darkness of the wall.

“You know of all that has fallen at Derby?” he said, with some difficulty.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, pray God we may be willing, too, if He bids us to it.”

“Yes, sir."...

“You had best lose no time if you are to be home before dawn.  Say to Mistress Manners that I thank her for her letter; that I praise God for the graces she relates in it; and that I will do as she bids....  Dick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Mr. Audrey in any of this?”

“I do not know, sir....  I heard—­” The man’s voice hesitated.

“What did you hear?”

“I heard that my lord Shrewsbury wondered at his absence from the trial; and ... and that a message would be sent to Mr. Audrey to look to it to be more zealous on her Grace’s commission.”

“That was all?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you had best be gone.  There is no more to be said.  Bring me what news you can when you come again.  Good-night, Dick.”

“Good-night, sir....  God bless your reverence.”

* * * * *

An hour later, with the first coming of the dawn, the storm ceased. (It was that same storm, if he had only known it, that had blown upon the Spanish Fleet at sea and driven it towards destruction.  But of this he knew nothing.) He had not slept since Dick had gone, but had lain on his back on the turfed and blanketed bed in the corner, his hands clasped behind his head, thinking, thinking and re-thinking all that he had read just now.  He had known it must happen; but there seemed to him all the difference in the world between an event and its mere certainty....  The thing was done—­out to every bitter detail of the loathsome, agonizing death—­and it had been two of the men whom he had seen say mass after himself—­the ruddy-faced, breezy countryman, yet anointed with the sealing oil, and the gentle, studious, smiling man who had been no less vigorous than his friend....