“That bodeth ill!” said Richard, thoughtfully.  “Wife, my soul misgives me that the hand of Cuthbert Langston is in this.”

Susan started.  The idea chimed in with Tibbott’s avoidance of her scrutiny, and also with a certain vague sense she had had of having seen those eyes before.  So light-complexioned a man would be easily disguised, and the halt was accounted for by a report that he had had a bad fall when riding to join in the Rising in the North.  Nor could there now be any doubt that he was an ardent partisan of the imprisoned Mary, while Richard had always known his inclination to intrigue.  She could only agree with her husband’s opinion, and ask what he would do.

“My duty must be done, kin or no kin,” said Richard, “that is if I find him; but I look not to do that, since Norman is no doubt off to warn him.”

“I marvel whether he hath really learnt who our Cis can be?”

“Belike not!  The hint would only have been thrown out to gain power over her.”

“Said you that you read the cipher?”

“Master Frank did so.”

“Would it serve you to read our scroll?”

“Ah, woman! woman!  Why can thy kind never let well alone?  I have sufficient on my hands without reading of scrolls!”

Humfrey’s delight was extreme when he found that he was to ride forth with his father, and half-a-dozen of the earl’s yeomen, in search of the supposed witch.  They traced her as far as Chesterfield; but having met the carrier’s waggon on the way, they carefully examined Faithful Ekins on his report, but all the youth was clear about was the halt and the orange tawny cloak, and after entering Chesterfield, no one knew anything of these tokens.  There was a large village belonging to a family of recusants, not far off, where the pursuers generally did lose sight of suspicious persons; and, perhaps, Richard was relieved, though his son was greatly chagrined.

The good captain had a sufficient regard for his kinsman to be unwilling to have to unmask him as a traitor, and to be glad that he should have effected an escape, so that, at least, it should be others who should detect him—­if Langston indeed it were.

His next charge was to escort young Babington to Cambridge, and deliver him up to a tutor of his lordship’s selection, who might draw the Popish fancies out of him.

Meantime, Antony had been kept close to the house and garden, and not allowed any intercourse with any of the young people, save Humfrey, except when the master or mistress of the house was present; but he did not want for occupation, for Master Sniggius came down, and gave him a long chapter of the Book of Proverbs—­chiefly upon loyalty, in the Septuagint, to learn by heart, and translate into Latin and English as his Saturday’s and Sunday’s occupation, under pain of a flogging, which was no light thing from the hands of that redoubted dominie.

Young Babington was half-flattered and half-frightened at the commotion he had excited.  “Am I going to the Tower?” he asked, in a low voice, awestricken, yet not without a certain ring of self-importance, when he saw his mails brought down, and was bidden to put on his boots and his travelling dress.