"Yes, I have heard it right enough," I answered; "but, if you would be warned in time, go home again, for methinks your present way leads straight to hanging." Their mouths fell open at my words, and for a moment there was silence; then one of them, a big-limbed fellow, cried: "A Monmouth! Down with Popery! The Protestant religion!" The others joined in lustily, and so I left them and rode on. Alack! I was to see three of those simple-minded rustics dangling from a rope-end in the days to come! On drawing near Hay House (a lonely place), where lived the Mayor of Lyme, I saw a horse come out into the road, with two men on it, riding double. This seemed so strange that I must needs pull up to look at them, and so, as they came abreast of me, I found the foremost one was Dassell. Both had swords and pistols. "What now?" said I. "Hush!" said he. "The very trees have ears to-night. I ride to raise the country on these rebels--to Crewkerne first--and friend Thorold here goes with me." "Yes, but why ride ye so?" I asked. "Because there is no other way," he answered, smiling grimly. "’Tis certainly a heavy beast--a coach-horse surely; but ’twill serve, methinks. At any rate, ’twas the only horse in Master Gregory’s stable." "And is the Mayor at home?" "Nay, there is no one save his sister. All his men have joined the rebels. The Mayor fled long ago to Exeter, to warn the Duke of Albemarle." "And save his skin!" said I. "Well, have a care. The roads are guarded, and ’tis but a chance that I am not the heavier by a bullet." "Ah! is that so?" quoth Dassell, glancing at his pistols. "It is," said I, and, wishing them God-speed, rode on my way. On reaching home I found the yard deserted, and so, vowing vengeance on our truant fellows, I led Kitty to the stable. There I had removed her harness, fed and watered her, when I heard a footstep just outside; and turning, found my father standing in the doorway with a lantern in his hand. "Is that you, my son?" he asked, in a voice which methought was strange and hollow. "Yes, sir," I answered, and was about to start forth on a full account of all that I had seen and heard, when, as my father raised the light, I noticed that his face was deathly white, and that his eyes were full of fear, a look which I had never seen in them before. Then, and not till then, I thought of Tubal Ammon, and the guarding of the window. "What is it, sir?" I asked with great anxiety. "Come, quickly, Michael," he replied, and turning, led the way towards the house. He took me straight into the study, where one glance sufficed to prove that something bad had happened. The window, a pane of which above the fastener had been broken, lay wide open; papers were littered on the floor; while with a thrill of fear, I noticed that my mother’s portrait was displaced. "Father, what is wrong?" I asked, turning to the spot where he stood staring at me in dumb, frightened fashion.