The Cat and Fiddle was none too well looking a place when Cuthbert succeeded at last in finding it.  It had one door in the thoroughfare of Holborn, but it ran back some way, and its other doors opened into a narrow alley turning off from the main street under a low archway.  As Cuthbert pushed open the door of the public room, he saw several men with faces of decidedly unprepossessing type sitting together at a table engrossed in talk, and these all looked quickly up as he entered, and gazed at him with undisguised suspicion.

A burly man, who had the look of a host, came forward, and asked his business rather roughly.  Strangers did not appear to meet any warmth of welcome at this place.  Cuthbert answered that he sought news of Master Robert Catesby, who had bidden him inquire at that place for him.  As that name passed his lips he saw a change pass over the face of his questioner, and the answer was given with a decided access of friendliness.

“He is not here now, but he will be here anon.  He comes to dine shortly after noon, and will spend some hours here today on business.  If it please you, you can wait for him.”

“I thank you, but I will come again later,” answered Cuthbert, who was by no means enamoured of the place or the company.

He was surprised that his travelling companion, who appeared a man of refined speech and habits, should frequent such an evil-looking place as this.  But the habits of the dwellers in cities were as yet strange to him, and it might be his ignorance, he thought, which made it appear suspicious to him.

“And if he asks who has inquired for him, what shall I say?” asked the host, whilst the men at the table continued to stare and listen with every appearance of interest.

“My name is Trevlyn,” answered Cuthbert shortly, disliking, he hardly knew why, the aspect and ways of the place.

He fancied that a slight sensation followed this announcement.  Certainly the landlord bowed lower than there was occasion for as he held open the door for his visitor to pass out.  Cuthbert was puzzled, and a little annoyed.  He was half inclined not to go there again; but curiosity got the better of his resolve as the afternoon hours drew on.  After all, what did it matter what manner of man this was, since he need never see him again after today?  It would be foolish not to reclaim his money, and might lead Master Robert Catesby to inquire for him at his uncle’s house, and that he did not wish.  The thing had better be done, and be done quickly.  How foolish it would be to go back to Cherry and say he had not accomplished his errand because some odd-looking men had stared at him, and because the tavern was ill smelling and dirty!

It was three o’clock, however, before the youth again entered the unsavoury abode.  As December had already come, the days were approaching their shortest limit; and as heavy clouds hung in the sky, the streets already began to look dark.  Within the ill-lighted tavern the obscurity was still greater.  Cuthbert pushed his way through the door, and found himself amongst the afternoon drinkers, who were making the room ring with ribald songs and loud laughter.  But the host quickly singled him out, and approached with an air of deference.