“Vengeance is God’s, not ours,” he said.  “Look!”

As he spoke Sir John began to sway to and fro.  He let fall his murdering sword, he pressed his hands upon his heart, he threw them high.  Then suddenly his knees gave beneath him; he sank to the floor a huddled heap and sat there, resting against the altar rail over which his head hung backward, open mouthed and eyed.

The last light of the sky went out, only that of the tapers remained.  Eve, awake at last, sent up shriek after shriek; Sir Andrew bending over the two fallen men, the murderer and the murdered, began to shrive them swiftly ere the last beat of life should have left their pulses.  His father, brothers, and Grey Dick clustered round Hugh and lifted him.  The fox-faced priest, Nicholas, whispered quick words into the ears of Acour and his knights.  Acour nodded and took a step toward Eve, who just then fell swooning and was grasped by Grey Dick with his left hand, for in his right he still held the axe.

“No, no,” hissed Nicholas, dragging Sir Edmund back, “life is more than any woman.”  Then some one overset the tapers, so that the place was plunged in gloom, and through it none saw Acour and his train creep out by the chancel door and hurry to their horses, which waited saddled in the inner yard.

The frightened congregation fled from the nave with white faces, each seeking his own place, or any other that was far from Blythburgh Manor.  For did not their dead master’s guilt cling to them, and would they not also be held guilty of the murder of the King’s officer, and swing for it from the gallows?  So it came about that when at last lights were brought Hugh’s people found themselves alone.

“The Frenchmen have fled!” cried Grey Dick.  “Follow me, men,” and with most of them he ran out and began to search the manor, till at length they found a woman who told them that thirty minutes gone Acour and all his following had ridden through the back gates and vanished at full gallop into the darkness of the woods.

With these tidings, Dick returned to the chapel.

“Master de Cressi,” said Sir Andrew when he had heard it, “back with some of your people to Dunwich and raise the burgesses, warning them that the King’s wrath will be great if these traitors escape the land.  Send swift messengers to all the ports; discover where Acour rides and follow him in force and if you come up with him, take him dead or living.  Stop not to talk, man, begone!  Nay, bide here, Richard, and those who rode with you to London, for Acour may return again and some must be left to guard the lady Eve and your master, quick or dead.”

De Cressi, his two sons and servants went, and presently were riding for Dunwich faster than ever they rode before.  But, as it proved, Acour was too swift for them.  When at length a messenger galloped into Lynn, whither they learned that he had fled, it was to find that his ship, which awaited him with sails hoisted, had cleared the port three hours before, with a wind behind her which blew straight for Flanders.