“Soombry ’ll pay for this,” he cried, as soon as he could speak. “I’ll not have no murderers in my house. I’ll have blood for blood. Does not the Book say ‘an eye for an eye’? I’ll have life for life, I tell yo’. I’ll revenge my son!” “Oh, father, father,” wept Molly, throwing herself at his feet, “dunnot say that! Dunnot look at John so wicked! He’s innocent, poor lad. The Book says more nor they things; it says, ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,’ and, ‘Do as yo’ would be done by.’ We’n killed hundreds and thousands of Frenchmen, I reckon, but if poor Teddy were alive in the hands of his enemies yo’d think it a cruel thing if he were made to answer for it.” With a volley of oaths the farmer was stooping forward to thrust her away, when there sounded of a sudden a tramping of feet without, and a heavy knock at the door. “They’ve come for me!” said Jean, turning very pale. “Molly, my loved one, they will take me away; we shall—never meet again. Let us thank God for these happy days.” She had risen and flown to him, and his arms were about her, when the knocking came again, loud and continuous. “Open there, in the King’s name!” cried an imperious voice. “Curse yo’, Molly, go to the door!” growled her father. “Go, sweetheart,” said Jean, releasing her. “Oh, father,” gasped Molly, as she crept with lagging steps across the room, “father, remember—yo’ gave your word!” The door swung back, and in an instant the room, as it seemed to Molly, was full of soldiers. Their leader, after a brief glance round, which took in, apparently without any deep interest, the old man leaning forward in his chair, the trembling girl, and the fair-haired young labourer standing in the background, addressed himself to the master of the house. “You are Farmer Rainford, I presume? I am in search of an escaped French prisoner of war, who, it is supposed, is in hiding in this neighbourhood. A suspicious-looking French craft has been hovering about Formby Cove since yesterday. May I ask if you’ve seen any stranger about your premises during the last few days?” Old Joe lifted his heavy eyes, and gazed at the speaker stolidly, but without saying a word. “Please to excuse my father, sir,” faltered Molly, coming quickly forward, “We’n just had bad news—terrible bad news, and he’s upset. We’n just heard as my only brother was killed by the French. See, there’s his name in the paper—Corporal Edward Rainford of the King’s Own.” She snatched the paper from her father’s hand as she spoke, and pointed out the marked place with a trembling finger. Joe made an inarticulate sound, and then clapped his hand before his mouth. “That’s a pity,” said the officer, with momentary compassion. “Well, Mr Rainford, we won’t trouble you. You can tell us what we want to know, my girl. You haven’t noticed any stranger about the place lately? Your labourers are all known to you? No ragged-looking fellow has come to the door to beg for alms?”