At the door of the inn Hackett dismounted, and unfastening the latch with some difficulty entered the kitchen. A fire of peat was smouldering on the hearth, and the remains of what was evidently a hurried meal were scattered on the table. A number of pike heads and scythe blades were piled in a corner. There was no one in the room. He rapped loudly with the hilt of his sword on the table and presently a woman made her appearance from one of the inner rooms. She seemed greatly alarmed at the unexpected arrival of her guests, and as she entered she cast a look of fear and expectancy round the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the weapons in the corner and she stopped short. “We want food and lodgings for the night,” said the sergeant, who had been examining one of the pewter mugs carefully, “lodgings for the men and horses. Bacon, I see, you have in plenty. Is there hay in the stable?” “Ay,” she answered nervously, “but my man is from home and I cannot serve you.” “Oh, for that we will just wait upon ourselves and be beholden to ye all the same. Your man, I doubt not, has taken to another trade, and belike it were as well we did not fall across him. And for what do ye keep these toys?” he asked, kicking the heap of weapons with his jack boot. “These are not tools an honest man would willingly handle, but we will inquire further thereinto.” So saying he went out to make his report to Macpherson, who was awaiting his return with undisguised impatience. “Things have an ill look, sir,” he said, with a stiff salute, “and I doubt not there is mischief brewing hereabouts; but there is a can of ale for ourselves and fodder for the beasts.” “We can go no further if we would,” said Macpherson, “there is not another mile in the horses. And,” he continued, glancing at the capability of the house to withstand an attack, “we can make good this place against a hundred. Let the horses be looked to carefully. I myself will examine the stable. Come, sweetheart, thou hast done a good day´s work and hast well earned a night´s repose.” Gervase and the Vicomte entered the house together. The woman had replenished the fire and was busily engaged making her preparations for the reception of her unwelcome guests. As De Laprade came in she gave a start of surprise, but the look of recognition, which for a moment lighted up her face, immediately gave place to the dull, stolid expression she had worn in her interview with the sergeant. She continued her work apparently unconscious of the presence of the two strangers. The Vicomte threw his hat and sword on the table and sat down on a stool close to the hearth. “I am destined to see Madame again,” he said, stretching out his hands towards the warmth of the hearth, for the evening had grown chilly. “And how is la belle Marie?”