I stepped lightly towards the scullery door and heard the sound she spoke of. “Sign or no sign,” says I, “I’ll see what it is, Barbara,” and I stepped within. But the thought occurring to me that this might signify some message from Merciful Wiggleskirk I turned and closed the door. “Best not let in any light from the kitchen,” says I, “lest the enemy see it.” So I left Barbara there and went to the little window alone. After a time the tapping came again. Whereupon, keeping under cover of the wall, I put out my finger and tapped lightly in response. An answering knock coming from without, I undid the bolt and spoke. “Who’s there?” says I. But lest it should be some trick of the enemy I kept closely behind the wall, for I had no mind to show my face at the window and receive a bullet in eyes or mouth. However, as I had conjectured, it was Merciful Wiggleskirk that stood without “’Tis I, master,” says he, “and I have tapped and tapped this half-hour. I do naught by halves,” he says, “and I could not ha’ rested until I had told you how I sped with my mission.” “I am beholden to you,” says I. “You delivered the despatch in safety?” “It is in the hands of Fairfax himself, master,” says he. “Great news or small, he knoweth every jot and tittle on’t.” “That’s well,” says I, much relieved. “I thank you, Master Wiggleskirk.” “Why,” says he, “I need naught of that sort, master, for you paid me excellent well. But I am new come from the camp, and since you are one of us----” “What does that mean?” I says. “I heard that you were of the true political creed,” says he. “Faith, how could you be aught else, seeing that you carried a despatch from Cromwell?” “I perceive your meaning,” says I. “Go on, pray.” “Why,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper, “as you are one of us I thought it well to tell you that ere sunrise there will be a troop here to reduce this place to submission. I was accompanied to camp,” he says, “by Master Dacre, who seems to have ingratiated himself with Colonel Sands, and now you are to be closely invested and reduced. And, hark ye, Master Coope,” he says, “if I were you I would----” What more he would have said was lost to me, for at that moment Anthony Dacre’s voice called across the fold. “What the murrain, Wiggleskirk! does it take an hour to water thy beast?” says he, and we heard his steps on the frosted straw as he came towards us. I shut the window and the trooper moved away. I caught sight of his figure and of Anthony Dacre’s outlined against the darkness beyond, and for a moment was tempted to see whether a bullet from my pistol could not pick out the right man. But on second thoughts I refrained, and went back to the kitchen and thence to the upper storey to resume my patrol, encourage my men, make enquiry after Sir Nicholas, and wait for daybreak.