The sentries on the wall were doubled, and then a house to house search was commenced, every possible place of concealment being rummaged from basement to attic.  Presently the searchers entered the lane in which Mrs. Martin lived.  The latch was ere long lifted, and a sergeant and six soldiers burst into the room.  The sight which they beheld quieted their first noisy exclamations.  Four women in deep mourning were kneeling by a rough coffin placed on trestles.  One of them gave a faint scream as they entered, and Mary Martin, rising to her feet, said: 

“What means this rough intrusion?”

“It means,” the sergeant said, “that a prisoner has escaped from the castle, one Archibald Forbes, a pestilent Scotch traitor.  He has been aided by friends from without, and as the sentries were watchful all night, he must be hidden somewhere in the town, and every house is to be searched.”

“You can search if you will,” the woman said, resuming the position on her knees.  “As you see, this is a house of mourning, seeing that my husband is dead, and is today to be buried in his native village, three miles away.”

“He won’t be buried today,” the sergeant said; “for the gates are not to be opened save by a special order from the governor.  Now, lads,” he went on, turning to the men, “search the place from top to bottom, examine all the cupboards and sound the floors, turn over all the wood in the shed, and leave not a single place unsearched where a mouse could be hid.”

The soldiers scattered through the house, and were soon heard knocking the scanty furniture about and sounding the floors and walls.  At last they returned saying that nothing was to be found.

“And now,” the sergeant said, “I must have a look in that coffin.  Who knows but what the traitor Scot may be hid in there!”

Mrs. Martin leaped to her feet.

“You shall not touch the coffin,” she said; “I will not have the remains of my husband disturbed.”  The sergeant pushed her roughly aside, and with the end of his pike prised up the lid of the coffin, while Mrs. Martin and the other three mourners screamed lustily and wrung their hands in the greatest grief at this desecration of the dead.

Just as the sergeant opened the coffin and satisfied himself that a dead man really lay within, an officer, attracted by the screams, entered the room.

“What is this, sergeant?” he asked angrily.  “The orders were to search the house, but none were given you to trouble the inmates.”

Mrs. Martin began volubly to complain of the conduct of the soldiers in wrenching open the coffin.

“It was a necessary duty, my good woman,” the officer said, “seeing that a living man might have been carried away instead of a dead one; however, I see all is right.”

“Oh, kind sir!” Mrs. Martin said, sobbing, “is it true what this man tells me, that there is no passage through the gates today?  I have hired a cart to take away my husband’s body; the grave is dug, and the priest will be waiting.  Kind sir, I pray of you to get me a pass to sally out with it, together with my daughter, sister, and niece.”