ow of this
chapel that lay in the shadow, through which came a faint glimmering of
light, as though tapers burned upon the altar.

"I think there's a burying yonder," he whispered, "at which all men
gather."

Hugh blanched, for might it not be Eve whom they buried? But Sir Andrew,
noting it, said:

"Nay, nay, Sir John was sick. Come, let us look."

The door of the chapel was open and they walked through it as quietly
as they could, to find the place, which was not very large, filled with
people. Of these they took no heed, for the last rays of the sunlight
flowing through the western window, showed them a scene that held their
eyes.

A priest stood before the lighted altar holding his hands in benediction
over a pair who kneeled at its rail. One of these wore a red cloak down
which her dark hair streamed. She leaned heavily against the rail, as a
person might who is faint with sleep or with the ardour of her orisons.
It was Red Eve, no other!

At her side, clad in gleaming mail, kneeled a knight. Close by Eve stood
her father, looking at her with a troubled air, and behind the knight
were other knights and men-at-arms. In the little nave were all the
people of the manor and with them those that dwelt around, every one of
them intently watching the pair before the altar.

The priest perceived them at first just as the last word of the blessing
passed his lips.

"Why do armed strangers disturb God's house?" he asked in a warning
voice.

The knight at the altar rails sprang up and turned round. Hugh saw that
it was Acour, but even then he noted that the woman at his side, she who
wore Eve's garment, never stirred from her knees.

Sir John Clavering glared down the chapel, and all the other people
turned to look at them. Now Hugh and his company halted in the open
space where the nave joined the chancel, and said, answering the priest:

"I come hither with my companions bearing the warrant of the King to
seize Edmund Acour, Count de Noyon, and convey him to London, there
to stand his trial on a charge of high treason toward his liege lord,
Edward of England. Yield you, Sir Edmund Acour."

At these bold words the French knights and squires drew their swords and
ringed themselves round their captain, whereon Hugh and his party also
drew their swords.

"Stay," cried old Sir Andrew in his ringing voice. "Let no blood be shed
in the holy house of God. You men of Suffolk, know that you harbour a
foul traitor in