On the morrow (Tuesday) he mounted his cob and rode to the spot he had selected for the attack. There were no high-roads in Sussex, but between the villages and the county town well-known beaten tracks existed. These were well-nigh impassable in winter—at other seasons a fair amount of traffic passed along them. Between Chiddingly and Lewes lay dense woods—the relics of the mighty forest of the Andreadsweald of ancient days. Sometimes the trackway led through forest glades of much beauty; at other times it was a narrow pass between giant oaks and elms whose rich foliage would occasionally meet over the head of the traveller, forming a delicious shade in the hot months of summer. It was to a place of this latter kind that Ralph came on that fine July morning. He felt perfectly certain that the Pursuivant would take this route on the following day; any other would involve a _détour_ of several miles in making the journey from Lewes to Chiddingly. Ralph inspected narrowly the trees which grew on both sides of the track; eventually he seemed to find what he needed, namely, two stout young saplings facing each other with about twenty feet intervening between them. Then he rode slowly home, and in the evening his rustic friends assembled again, at his summons, in the taproom of the inn, where he gave them his final instructions. To Susan he said nothing of the scheme on foot; he would not involve her or any member of his family in the dangers of the enterprise. One great regret filled his heart—the absence of his brother William. The twins were rarely apart from each other, and this visit to Chiddingly lacked but this one thing for Ralph's perfect happiness; his brother had been compelled to remain in London, where his uncle, Sir John, required his services and personal attendance. A dim grey light filled the eastern horizon on the Wednesday morning as Ralph made his way to the stables, where he saddled his stout cob. He bore no weapon—not even the customary rapier without which he rarely went abroad—for this enterprise was to be carried through without bloodshed; upon that point he was determined. His followers would all carry single-sticks, a formidable weapon enough in the hands of a Sussex rustic! Round his waist he had begirt himself with a long and strong cord—destined for a special purpose. Presently he mounted his horse and proceeded at a gentle pace towards the woods; his men, he knew, were gone on ahead. A bright red light suffused the eastern sky, the sun was about to rise, and the twittering of countless birds from every copse filled the air with sweet music. A summer mist lay on the meadowland, and big drops of dew bedecked the leaves of the hazel bushes, gleaming under the rosy light like rubies. Suddenly the sun rose above the horizon into a cloudless sky, and the day had begun. It was a lovely morning, not a cloud flecked the bright azure of the sky.