As she spoke the door was flung open and the corporal rushed angrily into the room. He was a miserable sight to behold. His head was saturated with greasy broth which dripped from the ends of his scrubby hair and beard and trickled down his rubicund countenance; he was covered from head to foot with flour and dust, and he held his hand pitiably to his temple where a large bump, the size of an egg, was rapidly rising, to embellish his appearance. Behind him marched Phoebe, weaponed with a besom, her face blazing with anger, her hair dishevelled, and her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, showing the brawny arms of this amazon. At sight of this couple, Barbara fell back into a chair, and laughed till her eyes filled with tears. "My poor Sir Knight of the Whipcord," she gasped. "What hath befallen thee? Ah me, Phoebe, but thou art a very dragon!" "A very devil," spluttered the corporal. "Devil in thy teeth, fellow!" cried the enraged waiting-woman. "Mistress Barbara, what think ye? this fellow hath tramped through every hole and corner of the house; he hath rent the hangings, broken the chiny, forced open the closets, and made the place a very desolation. And then—then he was for trapesing into my kitchen, my kitchen that I had but just redd up, with his great muddy boots, to poke his nose into all my places, because, forsooth, he swears I have a man hid among the pots and pans! A man, indeed! The meddlesome fool! I warrant me ’tis no man, but the victuals that he is in search of." "Patience, good Phoebe, patience," laughed Barbara. "As thou sayest ever, men are but fools and know no better." "Humph! Mayhap they knew no better, but they know better now, I warrant. Though it repents me that I wasted the whole of a good basin of broth and a bag of flour i’ the teaching of it." Meanwhile Corporal Crutch, having mopped his brow, and beaten off much of his outer covering of flour, made shift to resume his customary air of pompous dignity. "This woman, sir," he explained with a wave of the hand in the direction of Phoebe, "withstood us in the doorway of her kitchen, powerfully ammunitioned with pannikins. ’Twas, indeed, a post of some vantage, therefore I deemed it wisdom to lead her off, as you behold, by a feigned retreat, while the men make a flank attack, and secure the position by entering through the window." On hearing this Phoebe set up a howl of rage, and disappeared speedily in the direction of the kitchen, to oust the intruders from the spot. The sounds of battle which presently arose proved the success of the corporal’s manoeuvre. Captain Protheroe drew the corporal aside. "Well! You have searched?" "Aye, sir, every nook and cranny in the place. Not a rat’s hole has escaped us. He must be hid somewhere in this room, for there’s no other place unsearched." "’Tis very like, and I think I can put my finger on the place," answered the captain softly. Barbara looked up.