"Lie down!" he whispered sharply. "Lie down, and turn away your face." The footsteps drew nearer, the door was pushed open, and a girl carrying a dim rushlight entered the room. Her dress was untidy, her hair tousled, her eyes heavy with sleep. She gave a quick cry at sight of the occupants of the room, and almost dropped her candlestick in her surprise. "Why, Sue, what ails you?" Captain Protheroe asked cheerily. The girl stared at him in bewilderment. "La, Captain Protheroe, sir, eh! but ye frighted me. I took thee for a ghost. What ever be thee here for? Why," she continued with dawning recollection, "I heard tell as how thee wert took prisoner, and in gaol along wi’ rebels." "Arrested, I! What nonsense," he answered coolly; "’twas but a jest of Colonel Kirke’s. They don’t arrest the king’s officers, Sue, my girl. But look you, this lady hath but just recovered from a swoon. There was a disturbance in the streets, and she was thrown down and frightened. I brought her in here to recover, before I take her home." "Eh, poor thing!" exclaimed Sue, eyeing Barbara pitifully. "The street is no place for the like o’ her this time o’ night. But you’re kindly welcome, sir, and the lady too. We could not give her a bed, sir, I’m afraid; but an she wish to rest on mine——" "Oh, there’s no need to put yourself about, she will be well enow shortly." "Would you be wishing for supper, sir?" asked in girl sleepily. "Supper! Good heavens, no. Why it must be near midnight. I’m for my bed presently, and methinks ’tis the place for you now. You look tired to death, my girl." "Aye. I’ve been about since five o’clock this morning," she answered, yawning. "Their lordships make a deal of work. But I’m going to my bed now, if you want no more, sir." "Nothing, thank you, Sue." "I’m sleeping in yonder," nodding her head across the passage. "Perhaps you’d call, sir, if you want anything." Then she added, hesitating, "We be so full o’ guests now, father sleeps on the settle here. But he’ll hardly be down yet, he must see their lordships safe to bed first. Good-night to you, sir." She crossed the passage and disappeared through the doorway opposite. Captain Protheroe broke the silence which followed: "If you are rested," he said briskly, "I think we had best be gone." "Must we go?" she asked lazily. "The sooner we are free from the houses, the better. The landlord may come here any moment. They are quieter above stairs already." Then he glanced across the room. Through the half-closed doors of a cupboard in the corner he espied some dishes of meat—cold bacon, a half eaten pasty, several loaves of bread. "Fugitives cannot be over and above honest," he muttered with a laugh, as he swept the contents of the cupboard into a cloth, and tucked the bundle under his arm. "We can make the loss good to mine host, some day, perchance, and food we must have. Now, Mistress Barbara, if you are ready."