"Our latest advice is that Guise will _not_ come," answered the Governor; "he has joined De Nevers and their combined armies are moving into Picardy: all men say that France will make a desperate effort to reconquer St. Quentin—and will make it soon." "It is the unexpected which happens," said Geoffrey. So they talked till the hour grew late and it was time to retire. This night they were to occupy the "Guest chamber" in the Governor's lodging. "To-morrow, then," said the Earl, as he bade them a good-night, "to- morrow the tide serves at ten in the morning, and I have ordered a swift fly-boat to be ready for you at the quay at that hour. And now good- night, good-night!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XVI HOME AGAIN It was a dull gloomy day, the first day of "chill October." The envoys stood on the deck of the fly-ship as she cleared out of Calais harbour, and they watched the fast-receding vista of the old English town, the last remnant of the once vast Continental possessions of the Plantagenet kings. The flag of St. George hung loosely on the summit of the lofty tower of Notre Dame. The rain had sodden it, and there was little wind to throw out its heavy folds. There was much cause why Geoffrey, William and Ralph should rejoice and be glad. Their mission was drawing to an end, and all things had gone happily. They had passed through many dangers, and a Divine Providence had surely watched over them. Soon they would be in London, and a rapturous welcome awaited them at Gray's Inn! Yet these were three patriotic young Englishmen, and an indefinable oppression weighed down their spirits as they caught their last view of the flag of St. George floating over Calais. A prophetic intimation of evil oppressed their hearts. They had lately been brought into close contact with the gallant soldiers of France; they had fought against Montmorency and Coligni; they could appreciate the desperate valour of a Guise! How would the worn-out and meagre garrison of Calais, defending its crumbling walls, withstand the onslaught of such men? "Oh, brother," said Geoffrey, as he laid his hand on William's shoulder, "I fear for Calais!" "And I also," said William. "And I," said Ralph, and the hearts of the young men were heavy within them. But presently the sun broke through a bank of clouds, and lo! there, right in front of them, were the white cliffs of dear old England. "Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." "God save England!" cried Geoffrey, and they flung up their caps with joy. Soon they were in Dover, and as the evening came on they were galloping on three stout horses into Canterbury. They made no stay in the grand old cathedral city, but rode quickly through it.