The moment after, she heard the sound of arms and of horses' feet, and rising quietly she approached the window and looked out. The opposite room, which, as we have described it, was destined for a sitting-room, commanded the view at the back of Langley Hall, but the bed-room was turned towards the court and the drawbridge; and as poor Arrah Neil gazed forth from the window, she saw a party of five horsemen mounted, and Lord Walton putting his foot in the stirrup. The next moment he was in the saddle; and after speaking a few words to his aunt's servant William, who was standing beside his horse, he rode over the drawbridge and at a quick pace pursue the way to York. "He is gone without my seeing him," murmured Arrah Neil to herself; and then, creeping quietly to bed again, she turned her face to the pillow and deluged it with tears. CHAPTER XXX. "Nay, do not drag me so; I will go right willingly, my masters!" cried poor Diggory Falgate. "I was there with them upon compulsion. It is hard to be made prisoner by one's friends as well as by one's enemies." "Hold thy prating tongue, liar!" replied one of the troopers, who were bearing off the painter across the country towards Hull, which lay at about ten miles' distance, the course that the earl and his party had pursued having been rendered very circuitous by the various accidents of the journey. "Hold thy prating tongue, liar, or I will strike thee over the pate! Did we not see thee at their heels, galloping with the best?" "But no man can say that he saw me draw a sword in their behalf," answered Falgate. "Because thou hadst no sword to draw," rejoined the man. "And thou mayst be sure that to-morrow morning thou wilt be swinging by the neck in the good town of Hull, for the death of Captain Batten and the rest." "I killed them not," said Falgate, in a deprecatory tone. "What! wilt thou prate?" rejoined the trooper, striking him in the ribs with the hilt of his sword. But at that moment one who seemed in command rode back from the front, and bade the man forbear. "Come hither beside me," he said, addressing Falgate, who in the darkness could not see his face, to judge whether it was stern or not. "You are a malignant--deny it not, for it will not avail you. You are a malignant, and the blood of Christian men has been shed by those who were with you. Your life is forfeit, and there is but one way by which to save it." "What is that?" asked Falgate. "Life is not like a bad groat, only fit to be cast into the kennel; and I will save mine if I can." "That is wise," answered the soldier. "You can save it if you will. You have but to tell truly and honestly who they are who were with you, and what was their errand in these parts. You know it right well; therefore deny it not." "Nay, I do not know, right worshipful sir," replied the painter.