“Cuthbert Trevlyn!” exclaimed a familiar voice, and a hand was slipped beneath the doublet, and there was no further gleam of cold steel.  “I am right glad to welcome thee.  It is well for friends to muster at such a time.  Comest thou with news?”

Walter Cole was the speaker.  His face too wore something of the look which Cuthbert had observed on the father’s the previous evening—­an expression of strained expectancy, as if with long waiting mind and spirit had alike grown worn and over anxious.  The bright eyes scanned his face eagerly.  Cuthbert felt half ashamed of his ignorance of and indifference to the burning questions of the day.

“I have heard naught, I know naught.  I have been living the life of the forests these past months,” he answered, following Walter into a small room where they had often worked together.  “I have heard no word of what was passing in the world; I come to learn that here.”

The eagerness faded from Walter’s face.  He spoke much more quietly.

“Belike thou wert right to hide and live thus obscure; many of our leaders have done the like.  It is ofttimes the best and the safest plan.  But the time is at hand, and we must rally around them now.  When the hour has struck and when the deed is done, then will it be for us to work—­then will our hour of toil come.  East and west, north and south, must we spur forth with the tidings.  The whole nation must hear it and be roused.  The blow must be struck whilst the iron is hot.  Thus and only thus can we be secure of the promised victory.”

Walter spoke quietly, yet with an undercurrent of deep enthusiasm that struck an answering chord in Cuthbert’s heart.  All true and deep feeling moved him to sympathy.  His friend was talking in riddles to him; but he felt the earnestness and devotion of the man, and his sympathy was at once aroused.

“What hour? what blow? what deed?” he asked wonderingly.  “I know not of what thou speakest.”

Walter drew his brows together and regarded him with an expression of intense and wondering scrutiny.  When he spoke it was in a different tone, as though he were carefully weighing his every word, as though he were a little uncertain of the ground on which he stood.  There was something of evasive vagueness in his tone, whilst his eyes were fixed on Cuthbert’s face as though he would read his very soul.

“Methought thou knewest how cruelly we suffered, and that we trust some stroke of kind fortune’s wheel may ere long make life something better for us.  The King meets his Parliament soon.  Then is the time when men’s grievances may be discussed, and when there is hope for all that wiser and more merciful laws may be passed.  We have gathered together at this time to see what may be done.  We are resolved, as thou must surely know, not to suffer like this for ever.  Half the people of the realm be with us.  It were strange if nothing could be accomplished.  Cuthbert Trevlyn, answer me this:  thou dost wish us well; thou art not a false friend—­one who would deceive and betray?”