The dimensions of the room could not exceed a square of twelve feet.  The sides, which rose to a height of perhaps eight feet, were hung all around with a black cloth, and overhead the same covering was extended.  The furniture consisted of only a chair or two, and of the table above mentioned.  In the centre stood the tall form of sister Celestina, clothed in garments as black as the drapery which surrounded her, and holding by the hand, the little Indian girl Neebin.  Without stopping to notice them, Spikeman and Ephraim immediately commenced searching, with drawn rapiers, behind the hangings.  The cloth, on being withdrawn, exposed to view nothing but unhewn logs, and a recess of a few feet, containing a rude couch.  During the search, which was soon completed, the lady remained standing, with the little girl by her side, viewing the proceedings in silence, and with an air of offended dignity.

“What seek ye?” she demanded, when, with looks of disappointment, the men desisted.  “Tell me, that I may render you that assistance whereof ye seem to stand in need.”

“Madam,” answered Spikeman, “where is Sir Christopher Gardiner?  It is him we seek.”

“And is it in my sleeping apartment, audacious wretch, that you expect to find him?” exclaimed the lady.  “Your question is a greater insult than your violence.”

“Madam,” replied the Assistant, “it behooves you to be careful of your language.  Ephraim,” he added, turning to his companion, “do thou inquire without, whether the Knight be taken.  He may have leaped from the window.”

Upon Ephraim’s departure, Spikeman again addressed the lady.

“Madam,” he said, “I know that the work wherein I am engaged is ungracious.  Sad is the necessity which compels me to invade the retirement of a lady whom I hold in all honor and respect, and who has it in her power to make our whole Commonwealth her grateful debtors.”

“Speak quickly, sir,” said the lady, “that I may the sooner be rid of your intrusive presence.”

“You know me not, madam, nor my kind intentions, else would you not indulge this scorn.”

“If to break open the house of a defenceless woman at midnight, to batter down the door of her chamber, to intrude therein, and to insult her, besides, with base suspicions, be your kindness, what must be your cruelty?”

“Necessity, madam—­necessity must be our excuse.  We will have Sir Christopher Gardiner, dead or alive.  Judge by the importance which we attach to his capture, how great will be our gratitude, and the reward of him who shall enable us to lay hands on the traitor.”

“He is no traitor, base slanderer.  Thou hadst never dared to utter these injurious words in his presence.”

“I would he were in presence,” said Spikeman, sternly, “and you would soon be convinced of the contrary.  But more plainly, madam.  Let me entreat you, for your own sake, to disclose the hiding-place of this man, and to deliver to me his papers, for only by so doing can you escape severe and dreadful punishment.”