“By all that is sacred, it is Nanny Rudd!” exclaimed Frank, “what can she want here at this hour?” He ran to the door and opened it. “Come in, Nanny; what are your commands to-night?” “Captain Warenne,” answered Nanny, “ye’ll give that girl, as come with me, and brought me here, a crown. I promised her the same; and whiles you are taking it out of your purse, I’ll spake a word with your brother. I have business with him.” Warenne came forward, and laying hold of her hand, inquired what she had to say to him. “Is the captain,” asked Nanny, with emphasis, “giving the girl the crown?” Frank knew Nanny’s ways, and guessed that she wished him to get the girl out of the room. “Here, my good girl,” said Frank, stepping into an adjoining room, “here is not a crown, but a guinea for you. You are a kind-hearted lass to lead about a poor blind old woman, who is neither kith nor kin to you.” The girl was delighted both with the guinea and with Frank, and immediately began telling him how she came to accompany the old lady to Warenne’s lodgings. In the meanwhile Nanny bade Warenne close the door. “I don’t want,” said she, “that poor lass to hear what I am saying. She has nothing of the soldier about her, and don’t comprehend the necessity of keeping an asy tongue on all occasions, and she might tell tales, and get herself and others into trouble. Colonel,” continued she, when she ascertained that the door was shut, “I could not rest on my settle till I got to you to-night. How should I, when I receives the King’s money as I do? There’s going to be a row somewhere on the coast. I should guess to-morrow night, but I didn’t hear particulars.” “Indeed, Nanny,” said Warenne, “what have you heard?” “I’ll tell your honour,” answered Nanny. “There’s a man been staying at my brother’s house these last ten days; a pretty bad one, I reckon. I couldn’t make out why he kept staying on so. Well, to-night, just about six o’clock, he comes into the kitchen,—with Will Sharpe, whom you’ve heard speak of, I dare say, in this town, as a big thief and vagabond,—as I suppose ready-dressed for travelling; for Will says to him,—