strangers, one Mowbray by name and the other a maniac of monstrous growth, who committed grave default to-day without the confines of the city. The requisition is made in proper form, under his Majesty’s sign manual. The sheriff cannot withstand it. He hath sent a privy warning, and he comes hither with some pomp quick on the heels of his messenger.”
“Then the King’s orders must be obeyed. What sayeth Sir Thomas Cave?” said Mowbray.
“His worship is greatly perturbed. He fears that Gondomar has poisoned the King’s mind. You had best consult with him instantly.”
“The sheriff did not give warning without motive,” said Sir Thomas Roe. “He conveyed a hint that those he sought had better be absent. Unhappily, Sir Thomas Cave would not be pleased by my presence in his house, or I would accompany you. Nevertheless, I advise you to avoid arrest.”
“Tell us, brother dear, how this can be accomplished.”
There was a tremulous anxiety in Eleanor Roe’s question that sent a thrill of joy through one listener at least. Unnoticed in the darkness, Walter sought and pressed her hand.
Again Roe’s natural air of domination made itself felt. Even Beeston, who would gladly have run him through the body, found himself waiting for his sage counsel.
“Return, all of you, to the dwelling,” said Roe. “Let Master Mowbray bring his friend hither, and I shall conduct them both to a place of safety. None need know of my presence here. If Master Beeston desires an explanation thereof I shall accord it fittingly hereafter.”
“For my part I shall be equally ready to receive it, when these Yorkshire gentlemen are provided for,” said Beeston.
“Then these polite rejoinders are needless,” cried Anna softly, “for Sir Thomas Roe sails forthwith for the Spanish main. Come! No more idle words. Our feet are more needed than our tongues.”
They raced away together, Walter thinking no harm in helping Nellie by catching hold of her slender wrist.
They found Sir Thomas Cave’s house in some disorder of frightened domestics. The knight himself was raging at the garden door.
“A nice thing,” he roared at the girls, “gadding about among the bushes and gilliflowers when men’s lives are at stake. Here be arquebusiers by the score come from Whitehall – ”
“Where is Sainton?” demanded Mowbray, wishful to cut short any discussion that threatened to waste time.
“Gone to don his suit of leather. He says he has no mind to see his mother’s good homespun cut by steel bodkins. Gad! he is a proper man. But this is a bad business, Master Mowbray. I pray you demand fair trial, yet anger not the King by repartee. He is fair enough when the harpies about him leave him to his pleasure. I have some little favor at court. It shall be exerted to the utmost, and backed by my last penny if need be. Never shall it be said that I left my daughter’s protectors to languish in gaol, maimed for life, without striving with all my power – ”
“Never fash yourself about us, most excellent host,” roared Sainton, appearing behind the distressed old gentleman. “Friend Mowbray and I can win our way out of London as we won our way into it. Methinks ’tis a place that has little liking for honest men, saving those who, like your worship, are forced to bide in it.”
Seizing the cue thus unconsciously given by Roger, Walter said hurriedly: —
“We bid you Godspeed, my worthy friend, and hope some day to see you again. Farewell, Mistress Anna. Come, Roger. I think I hear the clank of steel in the distance.”
“My soul, whither will you hie yourselves at this hour?” gasped Sir Thomas.
“We can strive to avoid arrest, and that is a point gained. Forgive me! Lights are dangerous.”
He seized a lantern held by a serving-man and blew out the flame. Instantly he clasped Eleanor Roe around the waist and kissed her on the lips. She was so taken by surprise that she resisted not at all, even lifting her pretty face, in sheer wonderment, it might be.
“Good-by, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I shall see you again, if all the King’s men made a cordon about you.”
Then Roger and he vanished among the trees, while a loud knocking disturbed the quietude of the night in the street which adjoined the gardens.
CHAPTER IV
“The Philistines be upon thee, Samson.”
For the first time in his life Mowbray felt the tremor of a woman’s kiss. Naturally, in an age when kissing was regarded, save by husbands and jealous lovers, as a mere expression of esteem, his lips had met those of many a pretty girl during a village revel or when the chestnuts exploded on the hearth of an All Hallow’s Eve. Yet there was an irresistible impulse, a silent avowal, in the manner of his leave-taking of Eleanor Roe that caused the blood to tingle in his veins with the rapture of a new delight. For a few paces he trod on air.
Big Roger, recking little of these lover-like raptures, brought him back to earth with a question: —
“Had we not better seek the open streets than scramble through these uncertain trees, friend Walter?”
“Forgive me. I should have told you that one awaits us here.”
“Marry! Is the refuge planned already?”
“I know not. Hist, now, a moment, and we shall soon be wiser.”
They stood in silence for a few seconds. They heard the clash of accouterments and the champing of bits from the cavalcade halted outside Alderman Cave’s door.
“I’ faith,” growled Roger, “his most gracious Majesty hath sent an army to apprehend us. Yet, if you be not misled, he bids fair to be no better off than Waltham’s calf, which ran nine miles to suck a bull and came home athirst.”
“I pray you cease. Sir Thomas! Sir Thomas Roe!”
At the call a figure advanced from amidst the trees.
“Grant me your pardon, Master Mowbray,” came the polite response. “I was not prepared to encounter a son of Anak in your company. I had grave design to climb the wall speedily when I saw your giant comrade dimly outlined. It will be a matter of no small difficulty to pilot him unobserved through the city.”
“Show me the North Road and I’ll make my own gait,” said Roger.
“Nay, that is not my intent. I was, in foolish parlance, thinking aloud. Difficulties exist only that resolute men may surmount them. I do not decry your length of limb, good sir. Rather would I avail myself of it. Behind these bushes there is a wall of such proportions that your height alone will enable us to scale it without noise. Now, Master Mowbray, up on your friend’s shoulders. I will follow suit. Between the two of us we shall hoist him after.”
Roe’s cool demeanor inspired them with confidence. Though it was now so dark, owing to storm-clouds having banked up from the west, that they had to grope their path through the undergrowth, they obeyed his directions. All three were seated astride a ten-foot wall without much delay.
That they had not acted an instant too soon was evident from the fact that already armed men carrying torches were spreading fan-wise across Draper’s Garden from the Caves’s house, and they heard a loud voice bellowing from the private doorway: —
“I call on all liege men and true to secure the arrest of two malefactors who have but now escaped from this dwelling.”
Mowbray found himself wondering why the hue and cry had been raised so promptly. Some one must have indicated the exact place where he and Roger had disappeared. But Roe dropped from the wall on the other side and whispered up to them: —
“Follow! It is soft earth.”
“Hold by the wall,” he murmured when they stood by his side. “It leads to a wicket.”
Walking in Indian file they quickly passed into a narrow court. Thence, threading many a dark alley and tortuous by-street, stopping always at