"Halt!" came in loud accents from the sergeant outside. "The lock, Master Stich," said Patience, loudly and carelessly, as the sergeant stepped into the doorway, "is it ready? Her ladyship’s coach is following me from Aldwark, and will be at the cross-roads anon." "Quite ready, mistress," replied the smith, casting a rapid glance at the soldier, who stood in the entrance with hand to hat in military salute. The latter took a rapid survey of the interior of the forge, then said politely,— "Your pardon, ladies!" "Well, and what is it now, Sergeant?" queried John, with affected impatience. "I have heard that there’s a stranger at your forge, smith," replied the soldier. "My corporal came down from Aldwark early this afternoon and told me about him. I’d like just to have a talk with him." "One moment, Sergeant," said John, interposing his burly figure between Patience and the prying eyes of the young soldier. "I think you’ll find the lock quite secure now, mistress," he said, trying, good, honest fellow that he was, to put as much meaning into the careless sentence as he dared. She mutely thanked him with her eyes, took the padlock from his hands, and gave him over some money for his pains, the while her heart was nearly bursting with the agony of suspense. "No stranger, Sergeant," rejoined the smith, once more turning with well-assumed indifference to the soldier, "only my nephew out o’ Nottingham. Your corporal was a Derby man, and knew the lad’s mother, my sister Hannah!" "Quite so, quite so, smith," quoth the Sergeant, pleasantly; "then you won’t mind my searching your forge and cottage just for form’s sake." Even then Patience did not betray herself either by a look or a quiver of the voice. "Lud! how tiresome be those soldiers," she said with an affected pout. "I’d hoped to wait here in peace, friend smith, until the arrival of her ladyship’s coach." "Nay, mistress, you need not be disturbed," said the smith, jovially, "the Sergeant is but jesting, eh, friend?" he added, turning to the soldier. "There! I give you my word, Master Sergeant, that there is nought here for you to find." "I’ve my orders, smith," said the Sergeant, more curtly. "Nay, friend," interposed Lady Patience, "surely you overstep your orders. John Stich is honest and loyal, you do him indignity by such unjust suspicions." "Your pardon, ma’am, but I know my duty. There’s no suspicion against the smith, but there are many rebels in hiding about here, and I’ve strict orders to be on the lookout for one in particular, Philip Gascoyne, Earl of Stretton, who is known to be in these parts." John Stich interrupted him with a loud guffaw. "Lud, man!" he said, "there’s no room for a noble lord in a wayside smithy; you waste your time." "My orders say I’ve the right to search," quoth the Sergeant, firmly, "and search I’m going to." Then he turned to his squad, who were standing at attention outside.