"Follow me, men," he said, as he stepped forward into the forge. Fortunately the remote corners of the shed were dark, and Patience still had her hood and cloak wrapped closely round her, or her deathlike pallor, the wild, terrified look in her eyes, would at this moment have betrayed her in spite of herself. But honest John was standing in the way of the Sergeant. "Look’ee here, Sergeant," he said quietly, "I’m a man of few words, but I’m a free-born Englishman, and my home is my castle. It’s an insult to a free and loyal citizen for soldiers to search his home, as if he were a felon. I say you _shall not_ enter, so you take yourself off, before you come by a broken head." "Smith, you’re a fool," commented the Sergeant with a shrug of the shoulders, "and do yourself no good." "That’s as it may be, friend," quoth John. "There are fools in every walk in life. You be a stranger in these parts and don’t know me, but folk’ll tell you that what John Stich once says, that he’ll stick to. So forewarned is forearmed, friend Sergeant. Eh?" But to this the Sergeant had but one reply, and that was directed to his own squad. "Now then, my men," he said, "follow me! and you, John Stich," he added loudly and peremptorily, "stand aside in the name of the King!" The men were ranged round the Sergeant with muskets grasped, ready to rush in the next moment at word of command. John Stich stood between them and a small wooden door, little more than a partition, behind which Philip, Earl of Stretton, was preparing to sell his life dearly. That death would immediately follow capture was absolutely clear both to him and to his devoted sister, who with almost superhuman effort of will was making heroic efforts to keep all outward show of alarm in check. Even amongst these half-dozen soldiers any one of them might know Lord Stretton by sight, and was not likely to forget that twenty guineas—a large sum in those days—was the price the Hanoverian Government was prepared to pay for the head of a rebel. Philip was a man condemned to death by Act of Parliament. If he were captured now, neither prayer, nor bribes, nor even proofs of innocence would avail him before an officious magistrate intent on doing his duty. A brief halt at Brassington court-house, an execution in the early dawn!... these were the awesome visions which passed before Patience’s eyes, as with a last thought of anguish and despair she turned to God for help! No doubt John Stich was equally aware of the imminence of the peril, and, determined to fight for the life of his lord, he brandished his mighty hammer over his head, and there was a look in the powerful man’s eyes that made even the Sergeant pause awhile ere giving the final word of command. Thus there was an instant’s deadly silence whilst so many hearts were wildly beating in tumultuous emotion. Just one instant—a few seconds, mayhap, whilst even Nature seemed to stand still, and Time to pause before the next fateful minute.