he pavilion, and he hated bats. Though he belonged
to a community which denied the angels and ignored the saints, he had a
firm belief in the existence of a tangible devil, and somehow he could
not dissociate his ideas of hell and of evil spirits from those which
related to the mysterious flutterings of bats.

Moreover he thought that his duties in connection with the science of
secret investigation, had been sufficiently fulfilled for the day, and
he prepared to wend his way back to the house, when the sound of voices,
once more aroused his somnolent attention.

"Someone," he murmured within himself, "the heiress and the abductor
mayhap."

This might prove the opportunity of his life, the chance which would
place him within the immediate notice of the major-general, perhaps of
His Highness the Protector himself. He felt that to vacate his post of
observation at this moment would be unworthy the moral discipline which
an incipient servant of the Commonwealth should impose upon himself.

Striving to smother a sense of terror, or to disguise it even to
himself under the mask of officiousness, he looked about for a
hiding-place--a post of observation as he called it.

A tree with invitingly forked branches seemed to be peculiarly adapted
to his needs. Hymn-of-Praise was neither very young nor very agile, but
dreams of coming notoriety lent nimbleness to his limbs.

By the time that the voices drew nearer, the sober butler of Acol Court
was installed astride an elm bough, hidden by the dense foliage and by
the leaf-laden strands of ivy, enfolded by the fast gathering shadows of
evening, supremely uncomfortable physically, none too secure on his
perch, yet proud and satisfied in the consciousness of fulfilled duty.

The next moment he caught sight of Mistress Charity--Mistress Charity so
please you, who had plighted her troth to him, walking arm in arm with
Master Courage Toogood, as impudent, insolent and debauched a young
jackanapes as ever defaced the forests of Thanet.

"Mistress, fair mistress," he was sighing, and murmuring in her ear,
"the most beautiful and gracious thing on God's earth, when I hold you
pressed thus against my beating heart ..."

Apparently his feelings were too deep to be expressed in the words of
his own vocabulary, for he paused a while, sighed audibly, and then
asked anxiously:

"You do hear my heart beating, mistress, do you not?"

She blushed, for she was naught but a female baggage