It was already dark.  Jacob had been partaking of one of Martin Holt’s hospitable suppers.  Cuthbert had been absent, and Mistress Susan had remarked with some acrimony that the young man was growing a deal too fine in his ways for them.  He came and went just at pleasure; and she did not think it well to encourage him in his idleness and irregularities.  Martin opined that he had been amusing himself by watching the preparations for the grand doings on the morrow.  The King was in London, and would open his Parliament the next day.  Little was being talked of but that event all over London that night.

And now, on reaching his home, Jacob found this brief missive awaiting him, and started forth again, wondering not a little whither it would lead him.  The streets were almost empty.  Budge Row was dark and silent as the grave.  Yet as he looked up at the tall narrow house, a window from above was softly opened, and a low voice over his head spoke in soft, urgent accents: 

“Hist! make no sound.  Wait but a moment.  I will open to you.”

Jacob waited, and almost immediately the door was cautiously opened, and a head looked round, a pair of dark eyes peering up into his face.

“It is well, Jacob Dyson, thou hast come,” said the same voice, in the lowest of low whispers.  “But I may not speak with thee here.  Thou must come with me elsewhere.  Tyrrel’s men are in this house, carousing in their cups.  But they have ears like the wild things of the forest.  I may not bring thee within the door.  They think that I be gone to my chamber to sleep.  They will seek me no more tonight.  And before the morrow dawns our task must be accomplished.”

“And what is that task?” asked Jacob breathlessly.

“To free Cuthbert Trevlyn from the bonds that hold him; to save him from the power of those who will, when the morning dawns; deliver him up to the emissaries of the law as one who has taken part in the vilest plot that has ever been conceived by heart of man!”

Jacob started, and faced his companion, who was hurrying him along the dark streets at a rapid pace.

“Plot, woman! what dost thou mean?” he cried, alarmed and distrustful, and yet impelled to let her lead him whither she would, dominated by the power of her strong will.  “I must know more of this matter ere I go further.  I have heard fell whispers ere now, but I know not what their truth be.  I am a peaceable, law-abiding citizen.  I mix myself not up in such doubtful matters.  Speak plainly, and tell me what thou knowest, and what evil or harm threatens Cuthbert Trevlyn, or I vow I will go no further with thee.  I will not be made a tool of; I will not walk in the dark.”

He stopped short, and she did the same, still holding his arm in a close clutch.  They had reached one of the many city churches; the big building loomed up before them dark and tall.  The wise woman drew her companion within the shelter of the deep porch.  Here they could speak at will; none could overhear them now.